Named

As I marched out one day in Spring,

Proud of my life and power-

I saw an infant, all alone,

Kissing a small, red flower.

He looked at me with solemn eyes,

As only children can,

And-in a voice that might be God's-

He called distinctly-' Man!'

Though I had been the Pope of Rome,

Our English King or Heir,

A child has called in God's own way,

And I have answered-'Here!'