Trust

Lizette Woodworth Reese

I am Thy grass, O Lord!
  I grow up sweet and tall
But for a day, beneath Thy sword
  To lie at evenfall.

Yet have I not enough
  In that brief day of mine?
The wind, the bees, the wholesome stuff
  The sun pours out like wine.

Behold, this is my crown,—
  Love will not let me be;
Love holds me here; Love cuts me down;
  And it is well with me.

Lord, Love, keep it but so;
  Thy purpose is full plain:
I die that after I may grow
  As tall, as sweet again.

Next 10 Poems

• Lizette Woodworth Reese : Wise
• Lizette Woodworth Reese : Writ In A Book Of Welsh Verse
• Lola Ridge : A Memory
• Lola Ridge : A Toast
• Lola Ridge : A Worn Rose
• Lola Ridge : After Storm
• Lola Ridge : Altitude
• Lola Ridge : An Old Workman
• Lola Ridge : Art And Life
• Lola Ridge : Babel

Previous 10 Poems

• Lizette Woodworth Reese : To A Town Poet
• Lizette Woodworth Reese : Thomas A Kempis
• Lizette Woodworth Reese : The Deserted House
• Lizette Woodworth Reese : That Day You Came
• Lizette Woodworth Reese : Telling The Bees
• Lizette Woodworth Reese : Tears
• Lizette Woodworth Reese : Spicewood
• Lizette Woodworth Reese : Reserve
• Lizette Woodworth Reese : Oh, Gray And Tender Is The Rain
• Lizette Woodworth Reese : Lydia Is Gone This Many A Year