SIX times the sun has hotly lit
A smoke-wreathed scene of care,
To-day the dust of toil is laid,
And children are at prayer.
Six times has tempest swept my soul,
And now I gladly spend
A time of quietness with you,
My patient, faithful friend.
There have been noons of warmer blaze,
And midnights meteor-lit,
But never this most placid heaven,
With heart-peace under it.
There have been throbs of stronger bliss,
Yet is your presence best;
Safe in your firm and quiet hand
My hasty pulses rest.
Too fiercely tides of life have flowed,
And ebbed, alas! too fast,
Breathless and spent, I cast me down
On tideless shores at last.
I do not ask if this be love,
I know it to be rest;
The sabbath of my life has dawned,
And I am very blest.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem