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Jonathan Swift (E whom she loves is far away)

5 E whom she loves is far away From her and summer trees; Daily he toils by dying beds, Whose woe God only sees.

She cannot sl are his holy task, She sits at home and prays, And sends her dainty handicraft To cheer his dreary ways.

A Love-Gift.

Each stitch is set in faith and hope; He feels their mystic spell :

And how they aid his skill and strength He knows, but cannot tell..

Not all of us may bear the gloom Where sins and sorrows blend, But those who do may feel our love On all their steps attend.