WAITING
by: John Burroughs
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SERENE, 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 drawThe brook that springs in yonder height;So flows the good with equal lawUnto 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.
