BEFORE she has her floor swept
Or her dishes done, 
Any day you'll find her 
A-sunning in the sun!

It's long aftermidnight
Her key's in the lock, 
And you never see her chimney smoke 
Till past ten o'clock!

She digs in her garden
With a shovel and a spoon, 
She weeds her lazy lettuce 
By the light of the moon,

She walks up the walk
Like a woman in a dream, 
She forgets she borrowed butter 
And pays you back cream!
Her lawn looks like a meadow,
And if she mows the place 
She leaves the clover standing 
And the Queen Anne's lace! 

Some people think that there is no such place as Heaven because we have never seen it. Emily Dickinson, who wrote this poem, thinks that is rather a foolish argument because there are ever so many other things which we have not seen and still we believe in them.

I never saw a moor,
I never saw the sea; 
Yet know I how the heather looks, 
And what a wave must be.
I never spoke with God, 
Nor visited in heaven; 
Yet certain am I of the spot 
As if the chart were given.

GLAD that I live am I;
That the sky is blue; 
Glad for the country lanes, 
And the fall of dew.

After the sun the rain, 
After the rain the sun; 
This is the way of life, 
Till the work be done.

All that we need to do, 
Be we low or high, 
Is to see that we grow 
Nearer the sky. 

Listen to this colorful poem and try to think how the different cloths look. With what are they embroidered? Wouldn't they make a lovely gift for one whom you love?
 

HAD I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light, 
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths 
Of night and light and the half light, 
I would spread the cloths under your feet: 
But I, being poor, have only my dreams; 
I have spread my dreams under your feet; 
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

Nearly every child knows a little prayer to say before and after eating, but who ever heard of a grace for light? The children in this tiny, faraway Irish house seem to have behaved much as you do when you are getting ready for bed. Do you know who are meant by She and Herself and Himself? Have we more reason to say the grace for light than these people had?
 

WHEN we were little childer we had a quare wee house, 
Away up in the heather by the head o' Brabla' Burn; 
The hares we'd see them scootin', an' we'd hear the crowin' grouse,
An' when we'd all be in at night ye'd not get room to turn.
The youngest two She'd put to bed, their faces to the wall,
An' the lave of us could sit aroun', just anywhere we might;
Herself  'ud take the rush-dip an' light it for us all,

An' "God be thanked!" she would say, — "now we have a light."
Then we be to quet the laughin' an' pushin' on the floor, 
An' think on One who called us to come and be forgiven; 
Himself  'ud put his pipe down, an' say the good word more,
"May the Lamb o" God lead us all to the Light o' Heaven!" 
There's a wheen things that used to be an' now has had their day, 
The nine Glens of Antrim can show ye many a sight; 
But not the quare wee house where we lived up Brabla' way,
Nor a child in all the nine Glens that knows the grace for light.