Page:Poems Storrie.djvu/53

Miss Lintlocks sleeps, and her tiny palms
 On the grasses lie uncurled;
She is locked in a deep, sweet, childish sleep,
 Unspotted from the world.

My little bud in the sunny grass!
 My maid with the lint-white locks.
God keep thy feet from the toils, my sweet,
 From thorns and bruising rocks!

I could see thy life in a mist of grief,
 I could bear thou should'st suffer pain,
But I pray my breath may be held in death
 Ere I see thee with spot or stain.

God keep thine ears for the whispering leaves,
 Thine eyes for the bright sun-scroll,
While thy heart is free for their ministry
 I'll fear not for thy soul.