A child said, What is the grass?
fetching it to me with full
hands;

A fierce unrest seethes at the

core

A flock of sheep that leisurely
pass by,

A garden is a lovesome thing,
God wot!

A man said unto his angel:
A pitcher of mignonette
A whiff of forest scent,
Abou Ben Adhem (may his
tribe increase!)

Afoot and light-hearted, I take
to the open road,
After the whipping, he crawled
into bed;

Ah, if man's boast, and man's

advance be vain,

Ah! leave the smoke, the
wealth, the roar

Alas! What boots it with un-
cessant care

All day with anxious heart and
wondering ear

All honor to him who shall win
the prize,

All night the lone cicada
All that I know

Charles G. D. Roberts