  In childhood's fairy hour I watched a bow The Titian Sun had painted in the skies, And marveled at its wondrous hues and dyes And held my breath in silence at its glow; "The hand of God," I cried, "Divine, I know!" And at the thought the tears stood in my eyes. But when I heard that awful pack of lies About the pot of gold, I said, "'S that so!" |
|
