Poems (Coolidge)/The Lines Between
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THE LINES BETWEEN
We're prone to be too hasty, with careless glance we scan
The page of life as written by every brother man;
We note the faults of accent, that rhythm rings not true,
So vexed words are many, and kindly ones are few;
Alas! the sight is clouded, the beauties all unseen,
'Tis we who fail in reading what surely lies between.
The page of life as written by every brother man;
We note the faults of accent, that rhythm rings not true,
So vexed words are many, and kindly ones are few;
Alas! the sight is clouded, the beauties all unseen,
'Tis we who fail in reading what surely lies between.
We always see the failure, the struggle hidden lies,
Too deep for recognition by our dimmed, human eyes;
We look but for the honey, and failing that to find,
Too oft some fragile flower is bruisèd by the wind;
We wing the poisoned arrow, or judge with haughty mien,
So failing, in our blindness, to read the lines between.
Too deep for recognition by our dimmed, human eyes;
We look but for the honey, and failing that to find,
Too oft some fragile flower is bruisèd by the wind;
We wing the poisoned arrow, or judge with haughty mien,
So failing, in our blindness, to read the lines between.
Not so the Heavenly Father, who knows our smallest need;
Each tear-blurred page, when written, His eye in love doth read,
And when our timid voices we lift in praise or prayer,
He heedeth not the discord, if only love be there;
Oh! grant us grace, dear Father, to see the things unseen,
To help our struggling comrades to read their lines between.
Each tear-blurred page, when written, His eye in love doth read,
And when our timid voices we lift in praise or prayer,
He heedeth not the discord, if only love be there;
Oh! grant us grace, dear Father, to see the things unseen,
To help our struggling comrades to read their lines between.