Poetry of Kansas

In Mid-Sea

Far out on the ocean wide,
    Far out in a fragile boat,
I am swung on the swaying tide
    As lonesomely I float;
Far out from my moorings old,
    And the sands I may see no more;
While the mid-sea spray is cold,
    As I sweep to an unknown shore.

And the hands that taught my hand,
    When first I toyed with the oar,
In the shallows near to the land.
    Are my guiding hands no more
As I toss on the sea of time.
    Far out from my moorings old,
And sail for an unknown clime,
    While the mid-sea spray is cold.
But I trust that an unseen Form
    At the helm in faithfulness guides,
To help through the stress and the storm,
    And the sweep and swell of the tides;
And I trust that the unknown shore
    Will bring to me good, not ill,
Though now I toil at the oar,
    While the mid-sea spray is chill.

Quillings In Verse
John Edward Everett
(Smith Center: ___. 1912)
Page 2

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August 18, 2004 / John & Susan Howell / Wichita, Kansas / howell@kotn.org

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