 | Lyrics by John B Tabb |  |
68
PILGRIMS.
Unto the fane of Silence come,
Love-led from alien lands,
Pale pilgrim Prayers with upward glance,
And falling tears, and lifted hands,
And lips with stanched emotion dumb,
To ask for utterance.
Love-led from alien lands,
Pale pilgrim Prayers with upward glance,
And falling tears, and lifted hands,
And lips with stanched emotion dumb,
To ask for utterance.
There, shadow-like, with folded wings,
In reverence apart,
They wait till lingering Time hath brought,
In words or music to the heart,
What Spring to wintry Nature brings,—
Release for prisoned Thought.
In reverence apart,
They wait till lingering Time hath brought,
In words or music to the heart,
What Spring to wintry Nature brings,—
Release for prisoned Thought.
| Lyrics by John B Tabb | |