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POETRY.

COMMON THINGS.

GIVE me, dear Lord, thy magic common things, Which all can see, which all may share, Sunlight and dewdrops, grass and stars and sea, Nothing unique or new, and nothing rare.

Just daisies, knapweed, wind among the thorns : Some clouds to cross the blue old sky above : Rain, winter fires, a useful hand, a heart, The common glory of a woman's love.

Then, when my feet no longer tread old paths (Keep them from fouling sweet things anywhere), Write one old epitaph in grace-lit words :

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