Poem August 19, 1905 Issue

[Written for the Sentinel.]

To a Mocking-Bird

ANNIE DINSMORE MC CLURE.

Sweet child of joy, that waking ever pourest
Out from a heart of love to Love's own heart thy lays,
Fitting and perfect,—He whom thou adorest
Hath wakeful ear for thy perpetual praise!

Morning, or noon, or midnight, list'ning mortals,—
Watcher or worker,—failing not to keep
The gates of Spirit, that beyond their portals
No treacherous foe within the fold shall creep,

Hearing thy hymn above all earthly clangor,
Filling the fragrant dark with melody,
Shall own thee first of all who ever sang or
Prayed, most constant worshiper to be.

High Priest of Love, before His altar swinging
Thy censer sweet of spicy, dewy sprays,
And, emptied of all else, His glory singing,—
Would I were like thee, little heart of praise!

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A Decision Favorable to Christian Science
August 19, 1905
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