 | Lyra Pastoralis |  |
105
Honey-Gatherers
While here we work, and pray, and humbly striveTo do the duty of the passing hour,
We cull experience from each thorn and flower,
And gather honey for the Eternal hive.
Oh, 'tis a blessèd thing to be alive
On this green earth, and gifted with the power
Daily to add to Faith's immortal dower
Fresh storèd sweets, of which none can deprive
The happy gatherers. Soon as morning glows
Let us salute, with the impartial sun,
The pricking thistle, or the silky rose:
In grief or joy, pains borne, or duties done,
Seek we new spoil from every flower that blows,
To feast upon while endless ages run!
| Lyra Pastoralis | |