Serene, I fold my hands and wait,
Nor care for wind, or tide, or 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 has 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.
JOHN BURROUGHS.