The Hosts of Mary

She came unto a great tree
With low boughs and fair,
Out of the hard road
And the noon's glare;
The cool shade encircled her
Like kind arms there.

She came unto a still brook
In a green place;
There did she wash the dust
From her sweet face,
There did she stoop and drink,
And rest a space.

The great tree, the little brook —
Kind hosts were they;
Think you she thought of them
At end of day,
When from the inn's closed door
She turned away?
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