The Touch of Loving Hands

Light falls the rain-drop on the fallen leaf,
And light o'er harvest-plain and garnered sheaf--
But lightlier falls the touch of loving hands.

Light falls the dusk of mild midsummer night,
And light the first star's faltering lance of light
On glimmering lawns,--but lightlier loving hands.

And light the feathery flake of early snows,
Or wisp of thistle-down that no wind blows,
And light the dew,--but lightlier loving hands.

Light-falling dusk, or dew, or summer rain,
Or down of snow or thistle--all are vain,--
Far lightlier falls the touch of loving hands.