'If there arise among you a prophet or dreamer. . .' <br />I HAVE left a basket of dates <br />In the cool dark room that is under the vine, <br />Some curds set out in two little crimson plates <br />And a flask of the amber wine, <br />And cakes most cunningly beaten <br />Of savoury herbs, and spice, and the delicate wheaten <br />Flour that is best, <br />And all to lighten his spirit and sweeten his rest. <br /> <br />This morning he cried, 'Awake, <br />And see what the wonderful grace of the Lord hath revealed!' <br />And we ran for his sake, <br />But 'twas only the dawn outspread o'er our father's field, <br />And the house of the potter white in the valley below. <br />But his hands were upraised to the east and he cried to us, 'So <br />Ye may ponder and read <br />The strength and the beauty of God outrolled in a fiery screed !' <br /> <br />Then the little brown mother smiled, <br />As one does on the words of a well-loved child, <br />And, 'Son,' she replied, 'have the oxen been watered and fed ? <br />For work is to do, though the skies be never so red, <br />And already the first sweet hours of the day are spent.' <br />And he sighed, and went. <br /> <br />Will he come from the byre <br />With his head all misty with dreams, and his eyes on fire, <br />Shaking us all with the weight of the words of his passion ? <br />I will give him raisins instead of dates, <br />And wreathe young leaves on the little red plates. <br />I will put on my new head-tyre, <br />And braid my hair in a comelier fashion. <br />Will he note ? Will he mind ? <br />Will he touch my cheek as he used to, and laugh and be kind ?<br /><br />Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-little-sister-of-the-prophet/
