Faith

Faith is the thing with callow feet— That tiptoes on thin air— It keeps no calendar or creed— Yet finds me unaware. It does not knock—it does not plead— But settles in the soul— A hush, more firm than any church— A bell without a toll. It drinks the dew from shadowed grass— It sings beneath the snow— And when the sky forgets to speak— It’s all the voice I know. It walks where reason fears to go— A guest without a name— And when I fall, it does not scold— But lifts me just the same— As if it wore a wounded wing— Yet soared despite the flames .