Reality

These are my scales to weigh reality,— A dream, a chord, a longing, love of Thee. Real as the violets of April days, Or those soft-hid in unfrequented ways; Real as the noiseless tune to which we tread The measure we by life’s old song are led; Real as man’s wonder what his soul may be,— A guest for time or for eternity. Real as the ocean, seen, alas! no more, Whose tide still beats along my heart’s inshore. These are my scales to weigh reality,— A chord, a dream, a longing, love of Thee!

Collection: 
English
Martha Gilbert Dickinson

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