BLESSINGS, blessings on the beds Whose white pillows softly bear, Rows of little shining heads That have never known a care. Pity for the heart that bleeds In the homestead desolate Where no little troubling needs Make the weary working wait. Safely, safely to the fold Bring them wheresoe'er they be, Thou, who saidst of them, of old, "Suffer them to come to me." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SECRET by KATHERINE MANSFIELD IF IT WERE NOT FOR YOU by HAYDEN CARRUTH THE TOURNAMENT by SIDNEY LANIER |