Poetry Archives

As the shifting sands of the desert
  Are born by the simoon’s wrath,
And in wanton and fleet confusion,
  Are strewn on its trackless path;
So our lives with resistless fury,
  Insensibly and unknown,
With a restless vacillation
  By the winds of fate are blown;
      But an All-Wise Hand
      May have changed the sand,
      For a purpose of His own.

As the troubled and turbulent waters,
  As the waves of the angry main,
Respond with their undulations
  To the breath of the hurricane;
So our lives on Time’s boundless ocean
  Unwittingly toss and roll,
And unconsciously drift with the current
  Which evades our assumed control;
      But a Hand of love,
      From the skies above,
      May have guided us past a shoal.

Ephemeral, mobile, and fleeting,
  Our delible paths we tread;
And fade as the crimson sunset,
  When the heavens are tinged with red;
As the gorgeously tinted rainbow
  Retains not its varied dyes,
  We change, with the constant mutation,
  Of desert, of sea, and skies;
      But the Hand which made,
      Knows each transient shade,
  Which passes before the eyes.