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5i8 THE GOLDEN TREASURY OF
And even stand on tiptoe to look,
They could hardly see over the top at all.
But there was one corner not quite so high
And above it, against the farthest edge
Of the beautiful sky —
(The part that was golden and green and red
In the evenings, when they were going to bed) —
A row of poplars shook and shook;
And the children said
The poplars must be the end of the world. |
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On one of those happy summer days —
When the garden borders were all ablaze,
And the children for once felt too hot to play,
Though all their lessons were done,
But lay
On the grass and watched a delicate haze
Quiver across the brooding blue
Up to the sun —
Something happened strange and new.
For a beggar pushed open the garden door
And stood in the flooding sunshine bright
Full in the wondering children's sight,
A pale-faced woman, young and footsore,
With a baby boy on her arm.
Her ragged dress was all powdered gray
With the dust of the road.
She fixed a long bewildered gaze
On the quaint old garden gay,
Then, with a sudden smile and a nod,
She pointed in rapt delight
To the place where, cool and shimmering white, |
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