MOSSES.
Children of lowly birth,
Pitifully weak;
Humblest creatures of the wood,
To your peaceful brotherhood
Sweet the promise that was given
Like the dew from heaven:
“Blessed are the meek,
They shall inherit the earth.”
Thus are the words fulfilled:
Over all the earth
Mosses find a home secure.
On the desolate mountain crest,
Avalanche-ploughed and tempest-tilled,
The quiet mosses rest;
On shadowy banks of streamlets pure,
Kissed by the cataract’s shifting spray,
For the bird’s small foot a soft highway;
For the weary and sore distressed
In hopeless quest
Of a fabulous golden fleece,
Little sermons of peace.
Blessed children of lowly birth—
Thus they inherit the earth.