The Hours Are Few
Try to consider your hours of play,
That they are the ways of sharing the day;
For when all is said and done,
And the victory is won;
You may want to stay and shine,
In the sweet hours of summertime.
Always with some songs to cheer,
With silver church bells ringing clear,
From a great grey lofty steeple,
Soaring spire o'er all the people.
We walk the street in summer's rain
Humming melodies again;
On pale white pathway twisting far,
Thro twilight's dewy misting star;
Where leafy ferns and mosses grow,
And shady glen where streamlets flow;
Where nymphs who dance on silver streams,
Trip their feet in the river of dreams.
My friend, where I go you go too,
Find joy in life for the hours are few.
Copyright © Elizabeth Wesley | Year Posted 2011
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