Cannot keep my loves ones from me....

Some long years ago, my great-grandmother sent me a letter which had a snippet of another poem in it.  Although I didn't know it at the time, it came from the following poem.  Reading this poem as an adult has stirred me so much that I wonder if I have misjudged my great-grandmother, who was a very complicated and strong woman.

For those who don't know (I did not), John Burroughs was a romantic poet and considered secondary only to Thoreau in terms of naturalist sensibilities at the turn of the last century (according to various websites). 

WAITING

by: John Burroughs (1837-1921)

SERENE, I fold my hands and wait,

Nor care for wind, nor tide, nor sea;

I rave no more 'gainst time or fate,

For, lo! my own shall come to me.

I stay my haste, I make delays,

For what avails this eager pace?

I stand amid the eternal ways,

And what is mine shall know my face.

Asleep, awake, by night or day,

The friends I seek are seeking me;

No wind can drive my bark astray,

Nor change the tide of destiny.

What matter if I stand alone?

I wait with joy the coming years;

My heart shall reap where it hath sown,

And garner up its fruit of tears.

The waters know their own and draw

The brook that springs in yonder height;

So flows the good with equal law

Unto the soul of pure delight.

The stars come nightly to the sky;

The tidal wave unto the sea;

Nor time, nor space, nor deep, nor high,

Can keep my own away from me.

Source: Poetry Archive.  The Little Book of American Poets: 1787-1900. Ed. Jessie B. Rittenhouse. Cambridge: Riverside Press, 1915.12 Jan. 2011. Web.  http://www.poetry-archive.com/b/waiting.html