Verse > Anthologies > George Willis Cooke, ed. > The Poets of Transcendentalism: An Anthology
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George Willis Cooke, comp.  The Poets of Transcendentalism: An Anthology.  1903.
 
Waiting
By John Burroughs (1837–1921)
 
SERENE, I fold my hands and wait,
  Nor care for wind, or tide, or sea;
I rave no more ’gainst Time or Fate,
  For lo! my own shall come to me.
 
I stay my haste, I make delays,        5
  For what avails this eager pace?
I stand amid the eternal ways,
  And what is mine shall know my face.
 
Asleep, awake, by night or day,
  The friends I seek are seeking me;        10
No wind can drive my bark astray,
  Nor change the tide of destiny.
 
What matter if I stand alone?
  I wait with joy the coming years;
My heart shall reap where it hath sown,        15
  And garner up its fruit of tears.
 
The waters know their own, and draw
  The brook that springs in yonder height;
So flows the good with equal law
  Unto the soul of pure delight.        20
 
The stars come nightly to the sky;
  The tidal wave unto the sea;
Nor time, nor space, nor deep, nor high,
  Can keep my own away from me.
 
 
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