voices

The waves have a story to tell me
As I lie on the lonely beach
chanting aloft in the pine-tops
The wind has a lesson to teach
But the stars sing an anthem of glory
I cannot put into speech.

The waves tell of ocean spaces
Of hearts that are wild and brave,
Of populous city places
Of desolate shores they lave
Of men who sally in quest of gold
To sink in an ocean grave.

The wind is a mighty roamer
He bids me keep me free,
Clean from the taint of the gold-lust
Hardy and pure as he
Cling with my love to nature
As a child to the mother-knee.

But the stars throng out in their glory,
And they sing of the God in man
They sing of the Mighty Master
Of the loom his fingers span,
Where a star or a soul is a part of the whole
And weft in the wondrous plan.

Here by the camp-fire's flicker
Deep in my blanket curled
I long for the peace of the pine-gloom
When the scroll of the Lord is unfurled
And the wind and the wave are silent
And the world is singing to world.