February 12, 1929 & “Comrades”

Tues., 12   Cold south wind. Dumas washes. Going slow but feel better toward night. Grace goes down after dinner. I have a nap & cut out a garden dress for her.

 

and a poem from Green Mountain Echoes:

 

COMRADES

Comrades, be sure your barque is trim,

For the winds are blowing free.

Be sure your Pilot knows how to sail

On Life’s wide surging sea.

The harbor may lie

In a silvery sheen

And be safe for you and me,

But ships may toss

And ships go down

When they reach the open sea.

Comrades, there is wreckage on the wave

And driftwood strews the shore,

Joyless it lies beneath the skies

Where the waves beat evermore.

The harbor may lie

In a silvery sheen

And be safe for you and me,

But they sail no more

Who are tossed ashore

Out of the stormy sea.

Comrades, you need a Pilot true

Who fears not storm nor tide,

For gales may blow long ere you go

To Port on the other side.

The harbor may lie

In a silvery sheen

And be safe for you and me,

But who will guide

When our lone barque sails

Out on the stormy sea?

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This entry was posted in 1929 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, Dumas, From the H. Sheldon Museum, Grace Fisher, Green Mountain Echoes, PEOPLE, Poems and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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