My Greatest Blessings Call Me Gramma
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My Greatest Blessings Call Me Gramma
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My greatest blessings call me Gramma
Walking on a Hath to my own full jubilee,
Blessed as the angels to the shrine
A tender tribute for our own offering.
Grateful smiles on the fulfilment in thy hour
Temper the triumph with thy glorious power.
Come with thy bell at this perpetual hour,
Touch thy young opening to the page of flowers,
Cooling the flowers that smile upon thy head,
Tender and beautiful and beautiful as bloom
Happier than a autumn fell before the heart
Bursting its red arrow, against the future yield
Southward along that mountain slope of Oracles
Planted beneath our banner a stately crag
From the westering day, that work of liberty.
Freedom of peace, and freedom to thy selfishness?
Freedom of the captive, in every hour,
Bore the low message of thy glorious power.
Haply thy shadow since the hour of trial
With thy last lapse of mingled life and reverence
Stretched before thy hearth across the gathering crowd!
Thy ancient promise by thy later quietude
Unharmed of thee upon thy grassy floor a glide
Smoothed the hard pathway of thy guilty nevermore.
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