WAITING
Serene, I fold my hands and wait. Nor care for wind, nor tide, nor sea; I rave no more ‘gainst time or fate, for, lo! mine own shall come to me.
I stay my haste, I make delays, for what avails the eager pace? I stand amid the eternal ways, and what is mine shall know my face.
Asleep, awake, by night or day, the friends I seek are seeking me; no wind can drive my bark astray, nor change the tide of destiny.
What matter if I stand alone? I wait with joy the coming years; My heart shall reap where it has sown, and garner up its fruit of tears.
The waters know their own, and draw the brook that springs in yonder heights; so flows the good with equal law unto the soul of pure delights.
The stars come nightly to the sky; the tidal wave comes to the sea; nor time, nor space, nor deep, nor high, can keep my own away from me.
-John Burroughs (1837-1921)
