poems by mary baker eddy
59
Yet here, upon this faded sod,—
O happy hours and fleet,—
When songsters' matin hymns to God
Are poured in strains so sweet,
O happy hours and fleet,—
When songsters' matin hymns to God
Are poured in strains so sweet,
My heart unbidden joins rehearse,
I hope it's better made,
When mingling with the universe,
Beneath the maple's shade.
I hope it's better made,
When mingling with the universe,
Beneath the maple's shade.
Written in girlhood, in a maple grove.
