Round and round, like a dance of snow In a dazzling drift, as its guardians, go Floating the women faded for ages, Sculptured in stone on the poet's pages.
Round and round, like a dance of snow In a dazzling drift, as its guardians, go Floating the women faded for ages, Sculptured in stone on the poet's pages.
I see my way as birds their trackless way. I shall arrive, what time, what circuit first, I ask not but unless God send his hail Or blinding fire-balls, sleet or stifling snow, In some time, his good time, I shall arrive He guides me and the bird. In his good time.
Unless God send his hail Or blinding fire balls, sleet or stifling snow, In some time, his good time, I shall arrive.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories