Poem September 25, 1902 Issue

The Isles of Quiet

John Vance Cheney

Outlook

The Isles of Quiet lie beyond the years,
Hoar prophets say it; yet, for all the tears,
I doubt the saying of the seers.

I think that whoso seeks them here shall find
That all with open, patient heart and mind
Shall drink their peace from sun and wind.

I think who will may share their psalm, begun
The hour when summer day is done
The sky and field are growing one.

I know the foolish fancies fondest cling;
But I believe the still air's murmuring,
The sweet far thing the thrushes sing.

John Vance Cheney.
In the Outlook.

We'd love to hear from you!

Easily submit your testimonies, articles, and poems online.

Submit