May
20
I am still on my poetry bent:
I followed happiness to make her mine,
Past towering oak and swinging ivy vine.
She fled, I chased, over slanting hill and dale,
Pursuing rapidly over dashing stream.
I scaled the dizzy cliffs where eagles scream;
I traversed swiftly every land and mountain.
But always happiness eluded me.
Exhausted, fainting, I pursued no more,
But sank to rest upon a barren shore.
One came and asked for food, and one for alms
I placed the bread and gold in bony palms.
One came for sympathy, and one for rest;
I shared with every needy one my best;
I shared with every needy one my best;
When, lo! sweet happiness, with form divine,
Stood by me, whispering softly, “I am thine.”
by James Allen
Tags: james allen, poetry
