POEM.
BY E. HOWARD.
While wandering by the mountains
And musing by the streams,
I asked myself if ever thus
My life would pass in dreams.
I gathered the little pebbles
The waves threw on the sand:
The rippling waters seemed to say,
"There is a better land!"
And while thus my steps were straying,
Above, in azure far,
I saw a beacon's streaming light—
The glorious evening star!
My soul, enraptured, then exclaimed:
"Hail, beauteous star of even!
Wilt thou, while speeding into dawn,
Bring me the will of heaven?"
I watched it in its onward course,
Until its golden glow
Was lost behind the western clouds.
And left me wrapped in woe.
I struggled hard to free my soul
From brooding thoughts of care.
Till morning broke, when, with the star,
These words fell on the air:
"No more let earthly passion move.
Nor wearied hopes bemoan,
A life that has a God to love,
A heaven to call its own!"
The star had kindled hope
And raised my soul in prayer;
The clouds that rolled between
Foretold a life of care.
I bowed my head, and humbly knelt,
Submissive to his will.
Who, when the waves were troubled most,
Said, "Peace!" and all was still.