English
Poet
English Poet
3
Seated one day at the organ, I was weary and ill at ease, and my fingers wandered idly over the noisy keys. It seemed the harmonious echo from our discordant life.
Dreams grow holy put in action; work grows fair through starry dreaming, but where each flows on unmingling, both are fruitless and in vain.
2
I do not ask, O Lord, that life may be a pleasant road.
-1
Joy is like restless day; but peace divine like quiet night; Lead me, O Lord, till perfect Day shall shine through Peace to Light.
