Gifts

I would have given you other gifts than this— Songs and clear days and little prayers fulfilled,— But rest is His, And rest is all He willed.

I would have reared you up with little joys, Sheathed you with love as linnets from the sun, But all my toys Are poorer than His one.

I would have laid life's harvest in your arms, Not these small windflowers silvering on the stem, Their baby charms Bidding you match with them.

I would have led you where the meadows waken, Flung you the summer's treasure that they keep;— But you have taken God's early rose of sleep.