Classic Poem

In the deep bitter grief of incarnate despair
I cast myself down in the sod,
And said, if I have not a friend anywhere,
I will tell all my troubles to God.

Like Abraham I must then have fallen asleep
And drifted in dream land away,
Tho' when I first knelt in my sorrow so deep,
I surely intended to pray.

I thought that I knelt at the foot of a throne
In the form of a high oaken chair,
Of wood that no mortal had ever seen grown,
Away in the heavens somewhere.

And millions and millions awaited in train
To speak with the giant and King,
I saw them like grass on a thousand rich plains,
When summer winds circle and swing.

I looked on his limbs they were comely and fair
'Neath the folds of a flexible gown,
His hand was uncovered, his forehead was bare,
Impressed by the weight of a crown.

Save where a soft glory, now hidden, now seen,
Emitted a nebula bright,
Encompassing space with its crystalline sheen,
And searching the soul with its light.

The eyes that I saw when my plaint began,
Were dove like and tender and fair,
With gleam of still waters, with glow of the sun,
And the range of the limitless air.

And the odour that came from the robes that he wore,
This father of giants and kings,
Had aura of healing all potent and pure,
And essence of beautiful things.

“Take sheerest of linen and whitest of lawn,
And wash in spring water at still of the dawn,
Those hang on the shower washed briars today,
Until the warm sun rises high in the sky,
Then take it and crush it and crumple it well,
And you'll then get a hint of the soul of the smell.”

I told him my story all truthful and well,
He spoke not a word to the end,
And when he had heard all that I had to tell,
He turned with the eyes of a friend.

And in that one glance all my concerns he read,
And said “now in peace go thy way,
For thou in my vineyard hath laboured,” he said,
“Art faithful and I will repay.”