Verse > Anthologies > George Willis Cooke, ed. > The Poets of Transcendentalism: An Anthology
George Willis Cooke, comp.  The Poets of Transcendentalism: An Anthology.  1903.
By Sidney Henry Morse (1833–1903)
FRET not that the day is gone,
And thy task is still undone.
’T was not thine, it seems, at all:
Near to thee it chanced to fall,
Close enough to stir thy brain,        5
And to vex thy heart in vain.
Somewhere, in a nook forlorn,
Yesterday a babe was born:
He shall do thy waiting task;
All thy questions he shall ask,        10
And the answers will be given,
Whispered clearly out of heaven.
His shall be no stumbling feet,
Failing where they should be fleet;
He shall hold no broken clue;        15
Friends shall unto him be true;
Men shall love him; falsehood’s aim
Shall not shatter his good name.
Day shall nerve his arm with light,
Slumber soothe him all the night;        20
Summer’s peace and winter’s storm
Help him all his will perform.
’T is enough of joy for thee
His high service to foresee.

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