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The Chastening
 I SEE thee now thine innocence
Writ on thy soul’s clear skies.
Thy laughter loving mouth
Thy love provoking eyes.
I mark thy soft girl fairness
Thy strong young body’s grace,
The woman soul that I have nursed
Dawning behind thy face.
I note with fear thy heedless
And unchided turbulence.
Unfaltering faith in life and love
Thine air of confidence.
And then I see as seers might see
Even as one’s own God.
Thy straight, slim youthfulness
Bend to the chastening rod.
I writhe to think I may not bear
The blows, for thine own sake
I can not, tho’ ’tis mine to know
How one small heart can ache.{7}
In the winds of thy fierce breaking
God grant I never see
Thy flashing spirit sullen,
Or thy lips in mutiny.
But rather child, I’d have thee know
Even as I the rod,
As a tuning fork to bring thy song
Back to the harp of God.


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