Let those whose Hearts and Hands are strongTell eager Tales of mighty Deeds;Enough if my sequestered SongTo hush'd and twilight Gardens leads!Clear Waters, drawn from secret Wells,Perchance may fevered Lips assuage;The Tales an elder Pilgrim tellsTo such as go on Pilgrimage.I wander by the Waterside,In that cool Hour my Soul loves best,When trembles o'er the rippling TideA golden Stairway to the West.Such the soft Path my Words would trace,Thus with the moving Waters move;So weave, across the Ocean's Face,A glimmering Stair to Hope and Love.
Let those whose Hearts and Hands are strongTell eager Tales of mighty Deeds;Enough if my sequestered SongTo hush'd and twilight Gardens leads!
Clear Waters, drawn from secret Wells,Perchance may fevered Lips assuage;The Tales an elder Pilgrim tellsTo such as go on Pilgrimage.
I wander by the Waterside,In that cool Hour my Soul loves best,When trembles o'er the rippling TideA golden Stairway to the West.
Such the soft Path my Words would trace,Thus with the moving Waters move;So weave, across the Ocean's Face,A glimmering Stair to Hope and Love.
Printed byBallantyne, Hanson & Co.Edinburgh & London