 | [Poems by Cary in] The poems of Alice and Phoebe Cary |  |
WORSHIP.
I have no seasons and no times
To think of heaven; sometimes at night
I go up on a stair of rhymes,
And find the journey very bright:
And for some accidental good,
Wrought by me, saints have near me stood.
To think of heaven; sometimes at night
I go up on a stair of rhymes,
And find the journey very bright:
And for some accidental good,
Wrought by me, saints have near me stood.
I do not think my heart is hard
Beyond the common heart of men,
And yet sometimes the best award
Smites on it like a stone; and then
A sunbeam, that may brightly stray
In at my window, makes me pray.
Beyond the common heart of men,
And yet sometimes the best award
Smites on it like a stone; and then
A sunbeam, that may brightly stray
In at my window, makes me pray.
272
The flower I 've chanced on, in some nook
Giving its wild heart to the bee,
Has taught me meekness, like a book
Of written preaching; and to see
A corn field ripe, an orchard red,
Has made me bow with shame my head.
Giving its wild heart to the bee,
Has taught me meekness, like a book
Of written preaching; and to see
A corn field ripe, an orchard red,
Has made me bow with shame my head.
Of stated rite and formula,
A formal use the meaning wears;
When mostly in God's works I see
And feel his love, I make my prayers,
And by the peace that comes, I know
My worship is accepted so.
A formal use the meaning wears;
When mostly in God's works I see
And feel his love, I make my prayers,
And by the peace that comes, I know
My worship is accepted so.
| [Poems by Cary in] The poems of Alice and Phoebe Cary | |