[as only Mabel could so aptly describe it]
I have written of dawn, of the moon, and the trees;
Of people, and flowers, and the song of the bees.
But over these things my mind would pass,
And come to rest among the grass.
Grass so humble, that all things treat
Its tender blades. Grass – the bread,
The staff of life; a constant need
Of man and beast – a power indeed.
Grass, so vagrant – does anything stray
With such gallant courage? The hardest way
Is coaxed and beguiled by the wayward grace
Of the constant friend of every space.
God in His wisdom gave us many friends
To grace our way, as along it wends.
But the grandeur of many, my mind would pass,
And come to rest among the grass ….
By Mabel Duggan