Saturday, December 18, 2004

One of my favorite poems



by: John Burroughs (1837-1921)

      ERENE, I fold my hands and wait,
      Nor care for wind, nor tide, nor 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 tide of destiny.
      What matter if I stand alone?
      I wait with joy the coming years;
      My heart shall reap where it hath 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.

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