Poems (Sill)/Service
RET not that the day is gone,And thy task is still undone.'T was not thine, it seems, at all:Near to thee it chanced to fall,Close enough to stir thy brain,And to vex thy heart in vain.Somewhere, in a nook forlorn,Yesterday a babe was born:He shall do thy waiting task;All thy questions he shall ask,And the answers will be given,Whispered lightly out of heaven.His shall be no stumbling feet,Falling where they should be fleet;He shall hold no broken clue;Friends shall unto him be true;Men shall love him; falsehood's aimShall not shatter his good name. Day shall nerve his arm with light,Slumber soothe him all the night;Summer's peace and winter's stormHelp him all his will perform.'T is enough of joy for theeHis high service to foresee.
SERVICE.
RET not that the day is gone,And thy task is still undone.'T was not thine, it seems, at all:Near to thee it chanced to fall,Close enough to stir thy brain,And to vex thy heart in vain.Somewhere, in a nook forlorn,Yesterday a babe was born:He shall do thy waiting task;All thy questions he shall ask,And the answers will be given,Whispered lightly out of heaven.His shall be no stumbling feet,Falling where they should be fleet;He shall hold no broken clue;Friends shall unto him be true;Men shall love him; falsehood's aimShall not shatter his good name. Day shall nerve his arm with light,Slumber soothe him all the night;Summer's peace and winter's stormHelp him all his will perform.'T is enough of joy for theeHis high service to foresee.