Wednesday, March 20, 2013

My Meandering Riverie

My Meandering Riverie


Had I that passion of love, muted and genuine,
Maketh me troubled, that willy-nilly mind o' mine;
I lack the courage to approach that by the by,
Thee now, and such in the course of time, stand by.

Yet, down the depth of my faith, my trouble cries,
An eternal longing  for being tendered, there it lies;
And the fleeting time is now, not at ease,
For the years roll, degrees by degrees.

The lingering sweet scent of the spring of Keats',
That compassionate feelings, that wonderous feats,
From the spring to the summer the reverie arrives at,
Lord God, My consolation thou art, be my guide on that.

Let me sail my lonesome ship, alone and anon,
Leaving no footprints, in the sea of remorse, unknown,
With thee my lord, I sail with thy guide.

                                                                                                                                G.K


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