Читать книгу No One Can Stem the Tide - Jane Tyson Clement - Страница 6

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GIFT

The sea will follow me through all my years,

will lift my heart in song,

will quench my tears,

will lay benignant hands upon my head

at discontented whispers, sorrow led.

Death will find my body, hide it where

the ghastly shadows creep, all brown and sere;

will choke my singing voice,

will blind my eyes

to beauty which within the seasons lies,

the proofs of God, which fade and rise again,

restored by gentle fingers of His rain.

Yes, Death will find me.

Not immortal, I

who cling with earth-stained fingers

also die –

but not forever – no.

The sea will raise my song again,

remembering all my praise.