You who saw through my disguise
Though I came so poor,
Let me bless your true two eyes
And your open door.
Yes, I am a wonder-child;
Hark and tell it not.—
With the journey and the cold
I had half forgot.
Take the charmèd seeds I lay
In your open hand:
Some would cast them all away,
You will understand.
Trust the bud to come to flower,
Trust the flower for fruit.
Listen in the winter-time
For a cricket lute.
Here are blessings all from me
—Though they look like tears—
For your blessed eyes that see
And your heart that hears.
I am higher than I seem,
Fair as I would be:
O, I bless your heart that hears,
And your eyes that see!
They were ragged gifts I showed,
But you took the sense
Of the bird-nest from the road,
And the lucky pence.
And for all the charms I leave
Every time I pass,
Simple folk will only see
Cobwebs on the grass!
From The Singing Leaves by Josephine Preston Peabody (1903)
🌟 Read on Project Gutenberg / Buy a Copy
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