Poems (Craik)/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.
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.