I would not have it so. Weary and worn,
Why not to thee run straight, and be at rest?
Motherward, with toy new, or garment torn,
The child that late forsook her changeless breast,
Runs to home's heart, the heaven that's heavenliest:
In joy or sorrow, feebleness or might,
Peace or commotion, be thou, Father, my delight.
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Sweet friends, receive my offering. You will find
Below each worded page a white space set:--
This is the mirror of each friendly mind
Reflecting that. In this blog we are met.
Make it, dear hearts, of worth to you indeed:--
Let your white space be ground, my text be seed,
Growing to golden ears, that faith and hope shall feed.