 | The Complete Poetical Works of Robert Buchanan |  |
XXVII. Father, forgive Thy Child.
Oh sing, clear Brook, sing on, while in a dreamI feel the sweetness of the years go by!
The crags and peaks are softened now, and seem
Gently to sleep against the gentle sky;
Old scenes and faces glimmer up and die,
With outlines of sweet thought obscured too long;
Like boys that shout at play far voices cry;
Oh sing! for I am weeping at the song.
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I have had glimpses tongue may never speak;
No more I balance human joy and woe,
But think of my transgressions, and am meek.
Father! forgive the child who fretted so,—
His proud heart yields,—the tears are on his cheek!
| The Complete Poetical Works of Robert Buchanan | |