The watchful mother tarries nigh, though sleep has closed her infants eyes.

As fire kindled by fire, so is the poet's mind kindled by contact with a brother poet.

New every morning is the love
Our wakening and uprising prove.

The trivial round, the common task,
Would furnish all we ought to ask;
Room to deny ourselves; a road
To bring us, daily, nearer God.

And help us, this and every day,
To live more nearly as we pray.