by: Karle Wilson Baker
- y little town is homely as another,
- But it is old,
- And it is full of trees,
- And it is covered with sky.
- My heart lives in a little house with a fire in it,
- And a pillow at night,
- And is fed daily by laughter and cares,
- And the dear needs of children;
- But my soul lives out of doors.
- Its bread is the beauty of trees,
- Its drink, the sky.
- There is a moment on winter evenings
- When the grey trees on the near hills turn rosy,
- And all the smoke is blue.
- Then I go forth with my basket for manna.
- And sometimes,
- When the air is very clear,
- And the moon comes before the dark,
- God himself brings me green wine in a cup of silver,
- And holds it for me
- While I drink.
MORE POEMS BY KARLE WILSON BAKER
|"Daily Bread" is reprinted from Blue Smoke. Karle Wilson Baker. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1919.