Out of the ruck and the roar of life
He stepped aside to rest one day,
And the flowers that grew along the way
Lifted him out of the wearisome strife
That had claimed his every waking thought
For years... and a miracle had been wrought!
“Why have I never seen the rose
Just as a rose before?” asked he.
“Always its cost was the point to me,
And not its sweetness! Do you suppose
That all these years — how long, God knows!—
I really have not understood the rose?”
Walking along the quiet street
He noted a sick and fretting child;
And he waved his hand and paused and smiled
Till the baby laughed — and its laugh was sweet.
His eyes were dim as his hand he kissed
To the child, and he whispered, “And that I have missed!”
To the end of the day that was full of care
The song in his heart was strong and new,
And the woman who loved him heard it too:
“Now that his soul is awake, I dare
Hope that he understands me,” she said;
But I fear he did n't — until he was dead!