 | The Complete Works of James Whitcomb Riley |  |
496
WAIT
We know, O faltering heart,
Thy need is great:
But weary is the way that leads to art,
And all who journey there must bear their part—
Must bear their part, and—wait.
Thy need is great:
But weary is the way that leads to art,
And all who journey there must bear their part—
Must bear their part, and—wait.
The way is wild and steep,
And desolate:
No flowers blossom there, nor lilies peep
Above the walls to warn you, as you weep,
With one white whisper—“Wait.”
And desolate:
No flowers blossom there, nor lilies peep
Above the walls to warn you, as you weep,
With one white whisper—“Wait.”
You will find thorns, alas!
And keen as fate:
And, reaching from rank fens of withered grass,
Briers will clutch your feet, nor let you pass—
And you must wait—must wait.
And keen as fate:
And, reaching from rank fens of withered grass,
Briers will clutch your feet, nor let you pass—
And you must wait—must wait.
And though with failing sight
You see the gate
Of Promise locked and barred, with swarthy Night
Guarding the golden keys of morning-light,—
Press bravely on—and wait.
You see the gate
Of Promise locked and barred, with swarthy Night
Guarding the golden keys of morning-light,—
Press bravely on—and wait.
| The Complete Works of James Whitcomb Riley | |