I have a King, who does not speak —
So — wondering — thro’ the hours meek
I trudge the day away —
Half glad when it is night, and sleep,
If, haply, thro’ a dream, to peep
In parlors, shut by day.

And if I do — when morning comes —
It is as if a hundred drums
Did round my pillow roll,
And shouts fill all my Childish sky,
And Bells keep saying “Victory”
From steeples in my soul!

And if I don’t — the little Bird
Within the Orchard, is not heard,
And I omit to pray
“Father, thy will be done” today
For my will goes the other way,
And it were perjury!

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2 Comments

  1. frumpo says:

    God does not speak openly. Sometimes I get a glimpse, and it makes my day; other days, God is silent, and my day is shot.

  2. omar says:

    I will always remember and respect Emily.Amazing pesron and talented poet

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