DAILY BREAD

by: Karle Wilson Baker (1878-1960)

y little town is homely as another,

But it is old,

And it is full of trees,

And it is covered with sky.

My heart lives in a little house with a fire in it,

And a pillow at night,

And is fed daily by laughter and cares,

And the dear needs of children;

But my soul lives out of doors.

Its bread is the beauty of trees,

Its drink, the sky.

There is a moment on winter evenings

When the grey trees on the near hills turn rosy,

And all the smoke is blue.

Then I go forth with my basket for manna.

And sometimes,

When the air is very clear,

And the moon comes before the dark,

God himself brings me green wine in a cup of silver,

And holds it for me


While I drink.

• Learn about Karle Wilson Baker