These quiet Autumn days, <br /> My soul, like Noah's dove, on airy wings <br /> Goes out and searches for the hidden things <br />Beyond the hills of haze. <br /> <br />With mournful, pleading cries, <br /> Above the waters of the voiceless sea <br /> That laps the shore of broad Eternity, <br />Day after day, it flies, <br /> <br />Searching, but all in vain, <br /> For some stray leaf that it may light upon, <br /> And read the future, as the days agone - <br />Its pleasures, and its pain. <br /> <br />Listening patiently <br /> For some voice speaking from the mighty deep, <br /> Revealing all the things that it doth keep <br />In secret there for me. <br /> <br />Come back and wait, my soul! <br /> Day after day thy search has been in vain. <br /> Voiceles and silent o'er the future's plain <br />Its mystic waters roll. <br /> <br />God, seeing, knoweth best, <br /> And in His time the waters shall subside, <br /> And thou shalt know what lies beneath the tide, <br />Then wait, my soul, and rest.<br /><br />Ella Wheeler Wilcox<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/searching/
