 | The Complete Poetical Works of Robert Buchanan |  |
Smiling, he answer'd me:
‘Where do the raven and the wood-dove house,
And all things through all seasons? He who made
Will evermore preserve me. Knowest thou
Whose feet trod o'er these fields to make them fair,
Whose soft hand hung those boughs with orient gold,
Whose finger mark'd the curves of yonder brook,
Setting it loose and teaching it to flow
Like a thing living, singing on for ever?—
The King of Kings!’
‘Where do the raven and the wood-dove house,
And all things through all seasons? He who made
Will evermore preserve me. Knowest thou
Whose feet trod o'er these fields to make them fair,
Whose soft hand hung those boughs with orient gold,
Whose finger mark'd the curves of yonder brook,
Setting it loose and teaching it to flow
Like a thing living, singing on for ever?—
The King of Kings!’
| The Complete Poetical Works of Robert Buchanan | |