A TROOP of babes in Summer-Land,
At heaven's gate—the children's gate:
One lifts the latch with rosy hand,
Then turns and, dimpling, asks her mate,—

'What was the last thing that you saw?'
'I lay and watched the dawn begin,
And suddenly, thro' the thatch of straw,
A great, clear morning-star laughed in.'

'And you?' 'A floating thistle-down,
Against June sky and cloud-wings white.'
'And you? ' 'A failing blow, a frown—
It frights me yet; oh, clasp me tight!'

'And you?' 'A face thro' tears that smiled '—
The trembling lips could speak no more;
The blue eyes swam; the lonely child
Was homesick even at heaven's door.