WATCH AND PRAY 



Shall we not lift with the crickets 

 A chorus of ready cheer, 

 Braving the frost of oblivion, 

 Quick to be happy here ? 



The deep red cones of the sumach 

 And the woodbine's crimson sprays 

 Have bannered the common roadside 

 For the pageant of passing days. 

 These are the oracles Nature 

 Fills with her holy breath, 

 Giving them glory of color, 

 Transcending the shadow of death. 



Here in the sifted sunlight 

 A spirit seems to brood 

 On the beauty and worth of being, 

 In tranquil, instinctive mood ; 

 And the heart, athrob with gladness 

 Such as the wise earth knows, 

 Wells with a full thanksgiving 

 For the gifts that life bestows: 



For the ancient and virile nurture 

 Of the teeming primordial ground, 



[H5] 



