Poems (Barker)/Naoma

by Alice J. Green Barker

Naoma.

Oh, call me not Naoma,
 The Lord, His hand hath laid,
In chastening sore upon me,
 My spirit is dismayed.
I went out in the morning,
 With footsteps glad and gay—
I came back in the evening,
 It is a weary way.

I went out when the dew drops
 Lay thick upon the lea,
I came back in the darkness,
 The Lord has sent to me.
My hands were full at morning,
 No cloud could I discern—
Then call me not Naoma,
 All empty I return.

Beyond the clouds thick curtain,
 Beyond the starless night,
O God! I pray thy blessing,
 Upon a morning bright.
When to the glorious dawning
 A brighter joy will come,
Because I crossed the valley
 Upon my journey home.

Then call me not Naoma,
 Till at the gates I stand,
The cloudless, star gemmed curtain,
 Swept by an angel's hand—
Until among the brightness
 Of that angelic host,
The Lord fills up the measure,
 That here to me is lost.