Thursday 14 May 2009

FINDING PEACE

COMFORT
.
SPEAK low to me, my Saviour, low and sweet
From out the hallelujahs, sweet and low
Lest I should fear and fall, and miss Thee so
Who art not missed by any that entreat.
Speak to me as to Mary at thy feet !
And if no precious gems my hands bestow,
Let my tears drop like amber while I go
In reach of thy divinest voice complete
In humanest affection -- thus, in sooth,
To lose the sense of losing. As a child,
Whose song-bird seeks the wood for evermore
Is sung to in its stead by mother's mouth
Till, sinking on her breast, love-reconciled,
He sleeps the faster that he wept before.

.


Elizabeth Barrett Browning

1 comment:

Brian mc said...

Mushy sentimentality. I wannna hear whats happening the real world with the slug wars, spuds and stiff backs.