Posted in Poetry

CONFESSION

The truest and deepest love that I ever felt

Felt I at its kindled core

Did through each vein, in quickened start,

The tide of being so pour.

 

His coming is my hope each day

His parting will be anguish pain;

The reconciliation that did His steps delay

That causes a groaning in each vein.

 

I dream it would be a nameless bliss,

As I loved, Mrs. Jesus, to be;

And to this cause do I onward press,

As blind and foolish to this world I seem.

 

But wide as pathless is the space above,

That lay a bridge in the between;

And dangerous as the foamy race

Of surges ocean green.

 

Haunted as a robbers path

Through a wilderness of wood;

For might and right, for woe and wrath

Between our spirits stood.