My Own Shall Come to Me

"I stand amid the eternal ways."

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! my own shall come to me.

I stay my haste, I make delays,

For what avails this 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 when it has sown,

And gather up its fruit of tears.

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.

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.

John Burroughs.