But quiet as the falling dew
Was He who went away.

So swift He went, His passing left
A low, bright door in Heaven ajar--
With God it was a covenant,
To man it seemed a star.




I Whispered to the Bobolink


I WHISPERED to the bobolink:
"Sweet singer of the field,
Teach me a song to reach a heart
In maiden armor steeled."

"If there be such a song," sang he,
"No bird can tell its mystery."

I bent above the sweetest rose,
A deeper sweet to stir--
"O Rose," I begged, "what charm will wake
The deep, sweet heart of her?"

"Alas, poor lover," sighed the rose,
"The charm you seek no flower knows."