An angel found a daisy where it lay
On Heaven's highroad of transparent gold,
And, turning to one near, he said, "I pray,
Tell me what manner of strange bloom I hold.
You came a long, long way--perchance you know
In what far country such fair flowers blow?"

Then spoke the other: "Turn thy radiant face
And gaze with me down purple depth of space.
See, where the stars lie spilled upon the night,
Like amber beads that hold a yellow light.
Note one that burns with faint yet steady glow;
It is the Earth--and there these blossoms grow.
Some little child from that dear, distant land
Hath borne this hither in his dimpled hand."

Still gazed he down. "Ah, friend," he said, "I, too,
Oft crossed the fields at home where daisies grew."




THE VISION

Long had she knelt at the Madonna's shrine,
With the empty chapel, cold and grey,
Telling her beads, while grief with marring line
And bitter tear stole all her youth away.