I ASK but little; and I ask far more Than aught but infinite love and mind could give; Sometimes to steal away as heretofore Where a small stream and slender willows live. The shed leaves glide begolden to that stream Held in a pool, like music in the breast; As those leaves sink, there sinks my life adream, So cool-delaying, darkening down to rest. And more I ask, and mine it is -- to see Sweet faces that are part apart of me, The red-lipped mystery of a smiling child, Where I may ponder till the charm have won Past-pondering deeps, untimed by the stern sun, And with those red lips Peace herself have smiled. |