GILBERT PARKER
I LOVED my Art. I loved it when the tideWas sweeping back my hopes upon the sand;When I had missed the hollow of God's handHeld over me, and there was none to guide.I set my face towards it, raising highMy arm in token that I would be trueTo all great motives, though I sorely knewThat there was one star wanting in my sky.Touching the chords of many harmonies,I needed one to make them all complete.I heard it sound like thunder-gathered seas,What time my soul knelt at my lady's feet.And there transfigured in her light I grewIn stature to the work that poets do.
I LOVED my Art. I loved it when the tideWas sweeping back my hopes upon the sand;When I had missed the hollow of God's handHeld over me, and there was none to guide.I set my face towards it, raising highMy arm in token that I would be trueTo all great motives, though I sorely knewThat there was one star wanting in my sky.Touching the chords of many harmonies,I needed one to make them all complete.I heard it sound like thunder-gathered seas,What time my soul knelt at my lady's feet.And there transfigured in her light I grewIn stature to the work that poets do.
I LOVED my Art. I loved it when the tideWas sweeping back my hopes upon the sand;When I had missed the hollow of God's handHeld over me, and there was none to guide.I set my face towards it, raising highMy arm in token that I would be trueTo all great motives, though I sorely knewThat there was one star wanting in my sky.Touching the chords of many harmonies,I needed one to make them all complete.I heard it sound like thunder-gathered seas,What time my soul knelt at my lady's feet.And there transfigured in her light I grewIn stature to the work that poets do.
I LOVED my Art. I loved it when the tide
Was sweeping back my hopes upon the sand;
When I had missed the hollow of God's hand
Held over me, and there was none to guide.
I set my face towards it, raising high
My arm in token that I would be true
To all great motives, though I sorely knew
That there was one star wanting in my sky.
Touching the chords of many harmonies,
I needed one to make them all complete.
I heard it sound like thunder-gathered seas,
What time my soul knelt at my lady's feet.
And there transfigured in her light I grew
In stature to the work that poets do.