Meditation
I sail through the realms of the long ago,
Wafted by fancy and visions frail,
On the river Time with its gentle flow,
In a silver boat with a golden sail.
My dreams, in the silence are hurrying by
On the brooklet of Thought where I let them flow,
And the “lilies nod to the sound of the stream”
As I sail through the realms of the long ago.
On the shores of life’s deep-flowing stream
Are my countless sorrows and heartaches, too,
And the hills of hope are but dimly seen,
Far in the distance, near heaven’s blue.
I find that my childish thoughts and dreams
Lie strewn on the sands by the cruel blast
That scattered my hopes on the restless streams
That flow through the mystic realms of the past.