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 | The complete poetical works of Oliver Wendell Holmes |  |
Brothers, forgive my wayward fancy. Who
Can guess beforehand what his pen will do?
Too light my strain for listeners such as these,
Whom graver thoughts and soberer speech shall please.
Is he not here whose breath of holy song
Has raised the downcast eyes of Faith so long?
Are they not here, the strangers in your gates,
For whom the wearied ear impatient waits,—
The large-brained scholars whom their toils release,—
The bannered heralds of the Prince of Peace?
Can guess beforehand what his pen will do?
Too light my strain for listeners such as these,
Whom graver thoughts and soberer speech shall please.
Is he not here whose breath of holy song
Has raised the downcast eyes of Faith so long?
Are they not here, the strangers in your gates,
For whom the wearied ear impatient waits,—
The large-brained scholars whom their toils release,—
The bannered heralds of the Prince of Peace?
| The complete poetical works of Oliver Wendell Holmes | |