 | Lyra Pastoralis |  |
My Study
My Study! gratefully I gaze around,Rejoicing in its quaint and quiet look,
Each favourite picture and each well-loved book,
And the calm feeling of its sacred ground.
A garden view closed by the narrow bound
Of buttress'd orchard wall—green, sheltered nook,
With glimpse of woodland haunted by the rook,
While seen far off the incessant Trains resound.
Amidst my books I sit, tranquil, alone,
And hear afar the great world rushing by,
My silent work by busy men unnoted:
“Some day,” Faith whispers, “'twill be better known,
Seed sown in secret will bear fruit on high,
Immortal are the hours to God devoted.”
| Lyra Pastoralis | |