When rain falls,
sometimes we are standing
in the low spot where it pools--
And fills our galoshes
So that we slosh with each step.
And when we peer into the puddles
The image of us keeps changing.
Yet while we are looking down
At the flood rising to our knees,
The sky before us has forgiven all--
And is busy painting pretty promises
Of light and hope which we must
Look up to see.
--C. H. Greenn @2007
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So live, that when thy summons comes to join
The innumerable caravan which moves
To that mysterious realm, where each shall take
75
His chamber in the silent halls of death,
Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night,
Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
80
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.--William Cullen Bryant from Thanatopsis
A spinoff blog where I post my poetry. Please visit me at Beneath the Ivy Wreath.
Coyprighted material of C.H. Green
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So live, that when thy summons comes to join
The innumerable caravan which moves
To that mysterious realm, where each shall take
75
His chamber in the silent halls of death,
Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night,
Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
80
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.--William Cullen Bryant from Thanatopsis
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