The Little God
Mother says there’s a little god
Lives in my garden.
I asked her—“In the tree?”—
I asked her—“In the fountain?”
And she said, yes, that she,
Plain as plain could be,
Everywhere could see
The little god.
“What’s he look like, mother?”
“Oh,” she said, “like the flowers,
Like the summer showers,
Like the morning dew,—
Like you.”
She says he’s everywhere
In my garden—I can’t see him there.
Katharine Howard