"NOT TO THE SWIFT."

WARWICK JAMES PRICE.

Last night, in the city's heavy heat,
My ears were filled with the weary drone
Of sullen sound from the restless street,
Telling in ceaseless monotone
Of unending struggle for wordly place,
Of the feverish fight for empty pelf,
With the only meeds of the headlong race
The wages of sin and the shackles of self.

Tonight the psalm of the pulsing sea
Speaks calm and clear of a duty done,
Fulfilling the tasks of His decree,
With no pause or question, from sun to sun.
No envious, empty effort here,
No human will, perverse and blind,
No man-made planning, no halting fear,
But the power and poise and peace of Mind.

Send a comment to the editors

We'd love to hear from you!

Easily submit your testimonies, articles, and poems online.

Submit

"NOT TO THE SWIFT."

We'd love to hear from you!

Sign up for unlimited access