John Burroughs (3 April 1837 – 29 March 1921 / Roxbury, New York)
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Waiting
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 draw
The brook that springs in yonder height;
So flows the good with equal law
Unto 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.
Read poems about / on: destiny, wind, sea, fate, change, joy, alone, sky, time, night, water, spring, star, friend
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A nice write but i dont know why i just am not inspired by this, jut lacking something for me personally...maybe if i hadnt reviewed all morning with fresh eyes i would of read it differently but as it is i found myself sighing that it is just a bit lack lustre...... wish id picked another poem to read lol
awesome! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! .... every line.....every thought.........the poem indeed gives hope....a hope in sadness, something that insists life to be seen from a more optimistic view...though this optimism may seem far fetched sometimes.
I'll carry this poem of hope through dark days. Fate or coincidence? I don't believe in coincidence.