Waiting

    John Burroughs

            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.


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