Poems (Craik)/A Word in Season
Jump to navigation
Jump to search
HIS is a day the Lord hath made."—Thus spake
The good religious heart, unstained, unworn,
Watching the golden glory of the morn.—
Since, on each happy day that came to break
Like sunlight o'er this silent life of mine,
Yea, on each beauteous morning I saw shine,
I have remembered these your words, rejoiced
And been glad in it. So, o'er many-voiced
Tumultuous harmonies of tropic seas,
Which chant an everlasting farewell grand
Between ourselves and you and the old land,
Receive this token: many words chance-sown
May oftentimes have taken root and grown,
To bear good fruit perennially, like these.
A WORD IN SEASON.
HIS is a day the Lord hath made."—Thus spake The good religious heart, unstained, unworn,
Watching the golden glory of the morn.—
Since, on each happy day that came to break
Like sunlight o'er this silent life of mine,
Yea, on each beauteous morning I saw shine,
I have remembered these your words, rejoiced
And been glad in it. So, o'er many-voiced
Tumultuous harmonies of tropic seas,
Which chant an everlasting farewell grand
Between ourselves and you and the old land,
Receive this token: many words chance-sown
May oftentimes have taken root and grown,
To bear good fruit perennially, like these.