Seaward, at morn, my doves flew free; <br />At eve they circled back to me. <br />The first was Faith; the second, Hope; <br />The third—the whitest—Charity. <br />Above the plunging surge's play <br />Dream-like they hovered, day by day. <br />At last they turned, and bore to me <br />Green signs of peace thro' nightfall gray. <br />No shore forlorn, no loveliest land <br />Their gentle eyes had left unscanned, <br />'Mid hues of twilight-heliotrope <br />Or daybreak fires by heaven-breath fanned. <br />Quick visions of celestial grace,— <br />Hither they waft, from earth's broad space, <br />Kind thoughts for all humanity. <br />They shine with radiance from God's face. <br />Ah, since my heart they choose for home, <br />Why loose them,—forth again to roam? <br />Yet look: they rise! with loftier scope <br />They wheel in flight toward heaven's pure dome. <br />Fly, messengers that find no rest <br />Save in such toil as makes man blest! <br />Your home is God's immensity: <br />We hold you but at his behest.<br /><br />George Parsons Lathrop<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/three-doves/
