Classic Poem

I

A T home the waters in the grass
Went singing happy words;
But here, they flutter through my hands
As silent as the birds.

I see a Rose. But once they grew
All thronging, thronging, — wild,
And red, and white, before I came
To be a human child.

II

While I am resting by the road
So dully here apart,
Far-off my Angel laughs, maybe,
Where God shines round her heart.

O, she is laughing, as I think,
Because they cannot know
The parching wonder of the noon
With all our ways below.

They cannot know. But now and then,
They may let fall a song
Blown like a feather down to me,
Because the road is long.