Serene, I fold my hands and wait, <br /> Nor care for wind, nor tide, nor sea; <br />I rave no more 'gainst time or fate, <br /> For lo! my own shall come to me. <br /> <br />I stay my haste, I make delays, <br /> For what avails this eager pace? <br />I stand amid the eternal ways, <br /> And what is mine shall know my face. <br /> <br />Asleep, awake, by night or day, <br /> The friends I seek are seeking me; <br />No wind can drive my bark astray, <br /> Nor change the tide of destiny. <br /> <br />What matter if I stand alone? <br /> I wait with joy the coming years; <br />My heart shall reap where it hath sown, <br /> And garner up its fruit of tears. <br /> <br />The waters know their own and draw <br /> The brook that springs in yonder height; <br />So flows the good with equal law <br /> Unto the soul of pure delight. <br /> <br />The stars come nightly to the sky; <br /> The tidal wave unto the sea; <br />Nor time, nor space, nor deep, nor high, <br /> Can keep my own away from me.<br /><br />John Burroughs<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/waiting-2/
