Wednesday, August 20, 2014


Sleep little one,
Thy bed is so narrow,
Be not disturbed. . .
I am only a sparrow
You saved when the snow
Was deep on the ground;
And now. . . you are sleeping
Beneath a white mound.
Rest little one
Thy bed is so narrow
You cannot hear me,
A poor draggled sparrow,
But you I remember,
Thou giver of bread,
You stood in the doorway
And saw I was fed.


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