Poetry.
MY LOVE.
Not as all other women are Is she that to my soul is dear.
She doeth little kindnesses. Which most leave undone or despise ; For nought that sets one heart at ease, And giveth happiness or peace, Is low esteemed in her eyes.
Bhe hath no scorn of common things ;
And, though she seem of other birth, Round us her heart entwines and clings, And patiently she folds her wings To tread the humble path of earth.
Blessing she is: God made her so ; And deeds of week-day holiness Fall from her noiseless as the snow; Nor hath she ever chanced to know That aught were easier than to bless. Lowkli..
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/periodicals/WHIRIB18950801.2.6
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White Ribbon, Volume 1, Issue 2, 1 August 1895, Page 5
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114Poetry. White Ribbon, Volume 1, Issue 2, 1 August 1895, Page 5
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