poems by mary baker eddy
35
O take me to thy bower!
Beguile the lagging hours of weariness
With strain which hath strange power
To make me love thee as I love life less!
Beguile the lagging hours of weariness
With strain which hath strange power
To make me love thee as I love life less!
From mortal consciousness
Which binds to earth—infirmity of woe!
Or pining tenderness—
Whose streams will never dry or cease to flow;
Which binds to earth—infirmity of woe!
Or pining tenderness—
Whose streams will never dry or cease to flow;
An aching, voiceless void,
Hushed in the heart whereunto none reply,
And in the cringing crowd
Companionless! Bird, bear me through the sky!
Hushed in the heart whereunto none reply,
And in the cringing crowd
Companionless! Bird, bear me through the sky!
Written more than sixty years ago for the New Hampshire Patriot.
