 | [Poems by Cary in] The Poetical Works Of Alice and Phoebe Cary |  |
COMFORT.
Boatman, boatman! my brain is wild,
As wild as the stormy seas;
My poor little child, my sweet little child,
Is a corpse upon my knees.
As wild as the stormy seas;
My poor little child, my sweet little child,
Is a corpse upon my knees.
No holy choir to sing so low,
No priest to kneel in prayer,
No tire-woman to help me sew
A cap for his golden hair.
No priest to kneel in prayer,
No tire-woman to help me sew
A cap for his golden hair.
Dropping his oars in the rainy sea,
The pious boatman cried,
Not without Him who is life to thee
Could the little child have died!
The pious boatman cried,
Not without Him who is life to thee
Could the little child have died!
His grace the same, and the same His power,
Demanding our love and trust,
Whether He makes of the dust a flower,
Or changes a flower to dust.
Demanding our love and trust,
Whether He makes of the dust a flower,
Or changes a flower to dust.
On the land and the water, all in all,
The strength to be still or pray,
To blight the leaves in their time to fall,
Or light up the hills with May.
The strength to be still or pray,
To blight the leaves in their time to fall,
Or light up the hills with May.
| [Poems by Cary in] The Poetical Works Of Alice and Phoebe Cary | |