Penitent

A morn that only God could give.
A morn in which to rise and live.
A noon so still I felt His breath
Staying the passing wings of Death.
An eve so great and yet so sweet
That man and beast knelt at His feet.
A night brimmed o’er with love to spare-,
God must have walked among us there.
And I, through that God-given day
Was lost in thought along life’s way.
So now-, I go to ask of Him
Will He forgive my idle whim?
For I, the dreamer, caught a gleam
And only wove a poet’s dream.

– Circa 1927

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