A Passing Hail
By James Whitcomb Riley
Let us rest ourselves
a bit!
Worry?-- wave your
hand to it --
Kiss your finger-tips
and smile
It farewell a little
while.
Weary of the weary way
We have come from
Yesterday,
Let us fret not,
instead,
Of the wary way ahead.
Let us pause and catch
our breath
On the hither side of
death,
While we see the
tender shoots
Of the grasses -- not
the roots,--
While we yet look down
-- not up --
To seek out the
buttercup
And the daisy where
they wave
O'er the green home of
the grave.
Let us launch us
smoothly on
The soft billows of
the lawn,
And drift out across
the main
Of our childish dreams
again:
Voyage off, beneath
the trees,
O'er the field's
enchanted seas,
Where the lilies are
our sails,
And our sea-gulls,
nightingales:
Where no wilder storm
shall beat
Than the wind that
waves the wheat,
And no tempest-burst
above
The old laughs we used
to love:
Lose all troubles --
gain release,
Languor, and exceeding
peace,
Cruising idly o'er the
vast,
Calm mid-ocean of the
Past.
Let us rest ourselves
a bit!
Worry? -- Wave your
hand to it --
Kiss your finger-tips
and smile
It fare well a little
while.
All I can manage this week is a passing hail. If I could pick the place to sit with you and rest ourselves a bit, it might be Winan's Chocolates in German Village. Doesn't get much better than that...unless you are in Belgium, of course!
Renee continues the candy theme with a yummy array of Poetry Friday posts at No Water River.
