GREETING.

By John Greenleaf Whittier

I spread a scanty board too late;

The old-time guests for whom I wait

Come few and slow, methinks, to-day.

Ah! who could hear my messages

Across the dim unsounded seas

On which so many have sailed away!

Come, then, old friends, who linger yet,

And let us meet, as we have met,

Once more beneath this low sunshine;

And grateful for the good we‘ ve known,

The riddles solved, the ills outgrown,

Shake bands upon the border line.

The favor, asked too oft before,

From your indulgent ears, once more

I crave, and, if belated lays

To slower, feebler measures move,

The silent, sympathy of love

To me is dearer now than praise.

And ye, O younger friends, for whom

My hearth and heart keep open room,

Come smiling through the shadows long,

Be with me while the sun goes down,

And with your cheerful voices drown

The minor of my even-song.

For, equal through the day and night,

The wise Eternal oversight

And love and power and righteous will

Remain: the law of destiny

The best for each and all must be,

And life its promise shall fulfil.