Angel Footfalls

While the breeze of earlv autnmn Drifts across my window ledge, And the silver moon of harvest Glimmers through the forest s edge; While the undertone of nature Singa of days that are no more Then I hear soft baby footsteps Patter on my ohamber floor. In the strife of early manhood When the world seemed hard and Btern; When the bitter daily struggle Made my heart with anger burn; When my back was stooped with toilmg, And my hand and heart were sore, God sent music with their footsteps, Baby footsteps on my floor. Where the grasa beyond the doorstone Trampled down by baby feot, Make at leaat a narrow pathway Uutil path and highway meet, One by one I lost their footfalls Mingled in the highway's roar; 80 I hear to-night but echoes From my silent ehamber floor. Other baby feet that pattered In our cottage to and fro, Never f uund the dusty highway, Never toiled through pain or woe; But the white-robed forms of mercy Led them through the unseen door; Still in dreams their velvet footfalls Visit now mj chamber floor. I am gazing from my window At the rising harvest moon, Dreaming out an old man'a fancies Of a harvest coming soon, When the listening and longing And the w-tching shall be o'er, May my homeward-toiling childrenFind the waitin? open door.