Poems of Power by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
page 87 of 109 (79%)
page 87 of 109 (79%)
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In golden youth when seems the earth A Summer-land of singing mirth, When souls are glad and hearts are light, And not a shadow lurks in sight, We do not know it, but there lieu Somewhere veiled under evening skies A garden which we all must see - The garden of Gethsemane. With joyous steps we go our ways, Love lends a halo to our days; Light sorrows sail like clouds afar, We laugh, and say how strong we are. We hurry on; and hurrying, go Close to the borderland of woe That waits for you, and waits for me - Forever waits Gethsemane. Down shadowy lanes, across strange streams, Bridged over by our broken dreams; Behind the misty caps of years, Beyond the great salt fount of tears, The garden lies. Strive as you may, You cannot miss it in your way; All paths that have been, or shall be, Pass somewhere through Gethsemane. All those who journey, soon or late, |
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