Poetry Archives

I sing of starry dreams come true,
         Of hopes fulfilled;
Of rich reward beyond my due,
         Of harvest milled.
The full fruition of the years
         Is mine to hold,
And in despite of toil and tears
         The sun is gold.
         
I have no hate for any one
         On this good earth;
My days of hardihood are done,
         And hushed my hearth.
No echo of a world afar
         Can trouble me;
Above a grove the evening star
         Serene I see.

No jealousy nor passion base
         Can irk me now;
Recieved am I unto God’s grace
         With tranquil brow.
Adieu to love I have and hold,
         Farewell to friend;
In peace and faith my hands I fold
         And wait the end.