Press "Enter" to skip to content


From The Birmingham Age Herald, July 21, 1914. By John Burroughs.

Serene, I fold my hands and wait,
    Nor care for wind, or tide, or sea;
I rave no more ‘gainst time or fate,
    For lo! my own shall come to me.

I stay my haste, I make delays,
    For what avails this eager pace?
I stand amid the eternal ways,
    And what is mine shall know my face.

Asleep, awake, by night or day,
    The friends I seek are seeking me;
No wind can drive my bark astray,
    Nor change the tides of destiny.

What matter if I stand alone?
    I wait with joy the coming years;
My heart shall reap where it has sown,
    And garner up its fruit of tears.

The waters know their own and draw
    The brook that springs in yonder height;
So flows the good with equal law
    Unto the soul of pure delight.

The stars come nightly to the sky;
    The tidal wave unto the sea;
Nor time, nor space, nor deep, nor high
    Can keep my own away from me.

Comments are closed.

Mission News Theme by Compete Themes.