Sunday morn

 

and being that time of year where reflections deep take place

and remind us how special each day is...

for those who may forget....a poem for this fine Sunday morn!

Glorious blessings to all!

RB.

 

COMRADES

I and my Soul are alone to-day,
    All in the shining weather;
We were sick of the world, and we put it away,
    So we could rejoice together.
Our host, the Sun, in the blue, blue sky,
    Is mixing a rare, sweet wine,
In the burnished gold of his cup on high,
    For me, and this Soul of mine.
We find it a safe and a royal drink,
    And a cure for every pain;
It helps us to love, and helps us to think,
    And strengthens body and brain.
And sitting here, with my Soul alone,
    Where the yellow sun-rays fall,
Of all the friends I have ever known
    I find it the best of all.
We rarely meet when the World is near,
    For the World hath a pleasing art,
And brings me so much that is bright and dear
    That my Soul it keepeth apart.
But when I grow weary of mirth and glee,
    Of glitter, and glow, and splendour,
Like a tried old friend it comes to me
    With a smile that is sad and tender.
And we walk together as two friends may,
    And laugh, and drink God's wine.
Oh, a royal comrade any day,
    I find this Soul of mine. 

Poetical works of Ella Wheeler Wilcox. by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Edinburgh : W. P. Nimmo, Hay, & Mitchell, 1917.