In the lone place of the leaves, br Where they touch the hanging eaves, br There sprang a spray of joyous song that sounded sweet and sturdy; br And the baby in the bed br Raised the shining of his head, br And pulled the mother's lids apart to wake and watch the birdie. br She kissed lip-dimples sweet, br The red soles of his feet, br The waving palms that patted hers as wind-blown blossoms wander; br He twined her tresses silk br Round his neck as white as milk­ br 'Now, baby, say what birdie sings upon his green spray yonder.' br br 'He sings a plenty things­ br Just watch him wash his wings! br He says Papa will march to-day with drums home through the city. br Here, birdie, here's my cup. br You drink the milk all up; br I'll kiss you, birdie, now you're washed like baby clean and pretty.' br br She rose, she sought the skies br With the twin joys of her eyes; br She sent the strong dove of her soul up through the dawning's glory; br She kissed upon her hand br The glowing golden band br That bound the fine scroll of her life and clasped her simple story.