At the door of a cottage I asked a fair maid. "I have heard of that realm," she replied; "But my feet never roam from the 'Kingdom of Home,' So I know not the way," and she sighed. I looked on the cottage; how restful it seemed! And the maid was as fair as a dove. Great light glorified my soul as I cried: "Why, home is the 'Kingdom of Love.'" THE TENDRIL'S FATE Under the snow in the dark and the cold, A pale little sprout was humming; Sweetly it sang, 'neath the frozen mold, Of the beautiful days that were coming. "How foolish your songs," said a lump of clay, "What is there," it asked, "to prove them?" "Just look at the walls between you and the day, Now have you the strength to move them?" But under the ice and under the snow, The pale little sprout kept singing, "I cannot tell how, but I know, I know, I know what the days are bringing. "Birds and blossoms and buzzing bees, Blue, blue skies above me, Bloom on the meadows and buds on the trees, And the great glad sun to love me." A pebble spoke next. "You are quite absurd," It said, "with your songs' insistence; For I never saw a tree or a bird, So of course there are none in existence." "But I know, I know," the tendril cried In beautiful sweet unreason; Till lo! from its prison, glorified, It burst in the glad spring season. THREE FRIENDS Of all the blessings which my life has known, I value most, and most praise God for three: Want, Loneliness, and Pain, those comrades true, Who masqueraded in the garb of foes For many a year, and filled my heart with dread. Yet fickle joy, like false, pretentious friends, Has proved less worthy than this trio. First, Want taught me labor, led me up the steep And toilsome paths to hills of pure delight, Trod only by the feet that know fatigue, And yet press on until the heights appear. Then Loneliness and hunger of the heart Sent me upreaching to the realms of space, Till all the silences grew eloquent, And all their loving forces hailed me friend. Last, Pain taught prayer! placed in my hand the staff Of close communion with the over-soul, That I might lean upon it to the end, And find myself made strong for any strife. And then these three who had pursued my steps Like stern, relentless foes, year after year, Unmasked, and turned their faces full on me. And lo! they were divinely beautiful, For through them shown the lustrous eyes of Love. AMBITION'S TRAIL If all the end of this continuous striving Were simply to attain, How poor would seem the planning and contriving, The endless urging and the hurried driving Of body, heart and brain!