CHAPTER XXVIII

THE CAMP FIRE

RUTH THE TOILER

There is that quiet in her face That comes to all who toil. She moves through all the sheaves with grace A daughter of the soil.

There is that beauty in her hands, That glory in her hair, That adds a warmth to sun-brown lands When Autumn cools the air.

There is that gladness in her eyes, As one who finds the dust A lovely path to Paradise, And common things august

There is that reverence in her mood, That patience sweet and broad, As one who in the solitude Yet walks the fields with God!

--_Edward Wilbur Mason._