52
YE WEARIE WAYFARER
Whisper, spring-wind, softly singing,
Whisper in my ear;
Respite and nepenthe bringing,
Can the goal be near?
Laden with the dew of vespers,
From the fragrant sky.
In my ear the wind that whispers
Seems to make reply—
Whisper in my ear;
Respite and nepenthe bringing,
Can the goal be near?
Laden with the dew of vespers,
From the fragrant sky.
In my ear the wind that whispers
Seems to make reply—
“Question not, but live and labour
Till yon goal be won,
Helping every feeble neighbour,
Seeking help from none;
Life is mostly froth and bubble,
Two things stand like stone,
Kindness in another's trouble,
Courage in your own.”
Till yon goal be won,
Helping every feeble neighbour,
Seeking help from none;
Life is mostly froth and bubble,
Two things stand like stone,
Kindness in another's trouble,
Courage in your own.”
Courage, comrades, this is certain,
All is for the best—
There are lights behind the curtain—
Gentles let us rest.
As the smoke-rack veers to seaward,
From “the ancient clay,—
With its moral drifting leeward.
Ends the wanderer's lay.
