The Gifts Poem by Isabel Ecclestone Mackay
The Gifts
I GIVE you Life, O child, a garden fair;
I give you Love, a rose that blossoms there--
I give a day to pluck it and to wear!
I give you Death, O child--a boon more great--
That, when your Rose has withered and 'tis late,
You may pass out and, smiling, close the gate!
Monday, September 6, 2010
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5/10/2024 2:59:38 PM # 1.0.0.1119
