MY ANGEL EMILY HUNTINGTON MILLER. LOWLY the night is falling, Falling down from the hill, The dew lies heavy and chill; And the bats are circling low, And like ghosts through the blossoming garden Hand in hand through the twilight Come the children every one, Tawny with wind and sun; Where the sweet wild berries grow, Home from the tangled thickets Where the nuts are ripening slow. They mock at the owl's weird laughter At the tardy swallows flying Late through the darkening sky; And silently gliding after, Through the dusk of the shadowy street, Comes their little angel sister, Star white from her head to her feet Never crossing the threshold, Come they early or late; With her empty hands on her bosom, And spite of the shining garments And spite of the deathless beauty For missing her morning and evening, That safe with her blessed kindred "The babe that lay on my bosom "And now if out of the glory MY ANGEL. Her face like a star should shine, I should veil my eyes at her splendor, For the clinging hands of my baby, And the mouth that kissed me back." Yet though in my human blindness 171 A WOMAN'S LOVE DREAM NETTIE P. HOUSTON. E all have waking visions-I have mine, And sitting all alone, and musing still, While yet the firelight flickers dim, I ask myself if I should learn to love, Trusted and not feared. I do not ask that he be proud and cold, He must not tremble at my slightest frown I would not rule, nor yet would I be ruled; He whom I love must be my king, A WOMAN'S LOVE DREAM. But I must be his queen; And he should yield me, as my tribute due, Not only by my womanhood, but by all gentleness, Only love can teach; For looking on me he should feel and know But I must feel his power Must know he could be what earth's heroes are I could not love him were he not thus great. His hand must be both safe and strong; As hand to shield, to trust, to lay my own within, A hand that might have fought with Hercules, For tho' the heart of woman loveth oft A thing she doth unwillingly despise, His heart must be most tender and most true- If I should ever meet this man, While he bent down to kiss my shining hair, 173 |