AUTUMN PRAYER TO MARY

I came to thee when life's sweet maybells rang
And bright-eyed daisies in the field were seen,
When youthland's thrush its morning carol sang
And bridal birch trees in festive green;
I whispered prayers in deep childlike trust:
My soul was unsoiled by sin's gray dust.
I came to thee again in life's high noon,
When heart and eye burned in ambition's glow,
When first success set up its gay festoon,
And distant stars appeared so near and low;
I spoke my prayers loud, triumphantly,
Yet with a secret fear that haunted me.
I come once more now that life's dusk is nigh
And offer thee my weary heart's last love;
My eyes grow dimmer and more dark the sky,
All earth's enchantments vanish while above
I see thy face and hear thee beckon me:
Come, rest thy head upon thy mother's knee.
Frederick M. Lynk
Robert, Cyril. Our Lady's Praise in Poetry.
Poughkeepsie, New York: Marist Press, 1944.

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