Page:Poems Osgood.djvu/251

---

HEAVEN IS OVER ALL.

In weary paths, my precious boy,
 Your faltering feet must fall;
But bear in mind, where'er you go,
 That Heaven is over all!

You're tripping thro' a garden now,
 Where childhood loves to play,
And kind hands pull the flowers for you,
 And throw the thorns away;

And softly falls the tender light—
 The breeze—'tis joy to breathe it!
And if, perchance, a shower descends,
 New blossoms wake beneath it;

But by and by you'll leave your bower,
 And "go your ways" alone,
With but a chance companion, love,
 Across your pathway thrown;