The Soul Of A Century/From a hundred-leaf rose
FROM A HUNDRED-LEAF ROSE
Let the ocean toss assunder
My life’s sail upon its course,
Let it cringe neath storm and thunder,
Whipped by elements’ blind force.
On the voyage God has charted
Bravely I am sailing forth,
With a fearless soul I’ve started
For that distant, blissful port.
And to light the deep, dark night
In the triad of their might,
Rising o’er me high above
Linger Faith with Hope and Love.
Having spent the day in torment,
I haste through the peaceful night
Toward the brook, whose hillside torrent
Glistens in the moon’s pale light.
Dreary, tear-stained eyes are blazing
Where the foaming waters boom,
While my saddened mind is gazing
In that mirror of my doom.
Strange indeed! These dashing streams
Yonder fall in sparkling beams,
Here they turn to liquid fire
As when tears blend with desire.
The home of my dreams is post yon stream
Beneath a mountain, in a tree,
Where high above, the tall oaks seem
To weave a shady roof for me.
When the stillness, soft, appealing,
Settles in yon airy height,
When the passing day is stealing
Over hill and dale in fright.
Holy stillness . . . nearer, nearer,
O’er my head I hear it clearer,
’tis the flow of time that stole
Through my languid, dreaming soul.