He who shall sow the little seeds,
Must wait for them to grow;
Some day when he a solace needs
The pure, sweet flowers will blow.
When wintry storms their peace shall take,
And they are lost from sight,
These little seeds once more will wake,
To Heaven’s eternal light.
AT YORK.
The moon-light falls upon the sea,
And leaves a path of glory;
The waves creep high upon the shore,
And roll the shining pebbles o’er;
Then, running back in noisy play
To meet the ever-dashing spray,
Like loyal lovers, gay and free,
Repeat the same sweet story.
The light-house, on the lonely isle,
Where shadows now are creeping,
Like sentinel, so true and brave,
Stands forth to stay each coming wave;
In raging storm as well as calm
This stalwart giant fears no harm,
And thro’ the night keeps watch the while
The fisher folk are sleeping.
A little boat now comes to view,
And, in the path of splendor,
It seems to drift with idle oar,
To distant moon and unknown shore,—
Till human vision, at its best,
Can scarce discern, on ocean’s crest,
That tiny speck that rocks the two
To love dreams new and tender.
The stars are peeping from the blue,
The “milky way” revealing;
A row of houses, on the sand,
Like line of fronted soldiers stand;
How dimly, thro’ the deepening night,
The cottage candle throws its light,
While breezes blow the curtains through—
A glimpse of home life stealing!
Some faint reflections on the deep
And to wet sands are creeping;
While, from the light within the tower
Whose steady glare reveals its power,
A path of red on land and sea,
Where waves make sweetest melody,
Reflects and soothes the mermaid’s sleep
Its hourly night watch keeping.
O beauteous evening! Peace above,
O’er sea and shore is falling;
On such a calm and glorious night
The human heart is nearer right;
God seems so great, and Heaven so fair,
That man and earth can not compare;
On night like this, the souls that love
Are roused to higher calling.
PEACE.
When we ask the reason why,
And we question: “Is it right?”
When we search for hidden truths,
Praying for the needed light;
When our way looks long and lone,
And the sky seems dark o’erhead;
When our blessings all are gone,
And the sorrows come instead;
Then, like sunlight thro’ the gloom,
Comes the peace for which we prayed:—
“Let not your heart be troubled,
Neither let it be afraid.”
SHE SLEEPS.
“She sleeps,” they said;
With noiseless tread
They pass their way;
She will awake,
At morning break,
In endless day.
“She sleeps,” they said;
Some tears are shed
From loving eyes;
To-day she sings,
With King of kings,
In Paradise.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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