Poems (Helen Jenkins)/To a Moonbeam

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Early Poems.

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TO A MOONBEAM.
Bless thee, Moonbeam! peering quaintlyIn my window, smiling faintly,With a look half gay, half saintly!
Dost thou know why I am sittingIn the twilight shadows flitting,Till the starry lamps are lighting?
Thinkest thou my heart is weary?That life's path is growing dreary,Ever deemed so sweet and flowery?
No: ah, never! from above meWould the holy stars reprove me,Sweetly smiling down, "I love thee."
Is it but a childish dreaming?Is it but an empty seeming?Are the stars but coldly gleaming?
Everywhere on earth I move,Of the hosts beneath, above,I would ask of all for love;
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Of the singing birds and flowers,Of the gently-falling showers,Of the stilly, moonlit hours,
Of each dear one I may meet,Of each kindly face I greet;Give me this panacea sweet!
I've formed for all a standard high;They do not reach it, nor may I:The towering cliffs my strength defy.
But there is One who sees and knowsWhence every aspiration flows,And He each perfect gift bestows.


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