You stood at my door

You stood in the door to my room that night,
your blanket clasped to your breast;
your eyes were wide with hurt or fright,
a wounded child craving rest.

The dimly glowing night-light showed
tear-stains on your face;
words failed me as my heart o'erflowed
in a sheltering embrace.

You stand in the door to my heart each night,
beautiful, silent, sincere;
I pray down embraces of heavenly light
to enfold you far and near.

My dimly flickering fancy shows
you sad, and smiling, too;
and this is all my spirit knows:
I'd give my life for you.