SHALL I make a song for you,
Children dear,
Not too hard or long for you,
Just as clear
As your lives which opened so,
A while ago ?
How shall I find any word
Old or new,
That the wise earth has not heard
Ages through,
Ever since her ways grew sweet
With little feet?
How you bless my day and hour,
She can say,
As the sweet and spotless flower
Of her May
Lies in fullest bloom at rest,
Upon her breast.
All the happy service done,
Well she knows,
All the longing, and the one
Prayer that goes
Trembling through the unknown years,
For you my dears.
How I love you, she repeats,
How rejoice,
All my singing she completes,
For my voice,
Of the song in her great heart,
Is but a part.