Previous Challenge Entry (Level 1 – Beginner)
Topic: Light and Dark (05/21/09)
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TITLE: Beloved's Homecoming | Previous Challenge Entry
By Avigail David
05/25/09 -
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Ti’s a new day dawning, sunrise, a new life surpassing
Yesterday’s vexes to grace; tears to triumphs; petitions to praising.
Glory of light rising, shimmering on the dew drops glist’ning.
Gentle breeze she breathes in, gaze at towering trees swaying.
As eastern light shines, she smiles, “Arise, my beloved’s homecoming.”
Hearts sowing yonder, in tender arms in sweet resign.
But until then, her attic of treasures there's but mem’ries find.
Comfort from rare minds of authors she has not found
But in sweet arrest, hope of her beloved’s homecoming abound
In a few more slumbers she’d find rejoicing sound!
Wise Solomon once said, "Hope differed maketh the heart sick…"
How true does waiting make one patient, lowly, and meek.
Longfellow made famed by his pen of Alden and Priscilla's courtship
Nothing more in lone attic of treasures can fill the joys of beloved’s fellowship!
“From Jest to Earnest” must have many a time furrowed her brows.
Favoured from old, “He Fell in Love with His Wife”; these of E.P. Roe's
“Jessica's First Prayer”; “A Thorny Path” from Stretton's lit’ry chest
Oh! The sweet ardour she grasps in her heart’s treasures behest!
She waits... beneath the arms of love, beloved’s homecoming tastes the best!
Even witty John Ploughman's hearty talk of proverbial sayings;
Could not find their place in her soul’s cure for yearnings.
It is in the Comforter thus she finds her rest there;
In Jesus' daily mercies, she casts her beloved’s daily care.
Though in the dark valley where loneliness looms betimes;
Though the tempter’s snares beat harshly; in weariness, she declines.
The path of her lonely journey’s tread, she clasps firmly to the Staff;
Divine Love’s strength protects, never falters on her behalf.
Oh! Glorious Light of the soul; in trust she dwells; His peace bestowed.
Vict’ries won, prayers have sown; refreshed, renewed, and restored.
Darkness veiled; skies arrayed with heav’nly lights of the Master’s hand at task
What might have done today, her hands laboured well; her cares to Him cast.
Wrinkled hands linger on the pages of His awesome faithful letters
The Lamp burns radiantly, glimmering brightly: reveals Love never severs.
In Jesus' daily Words of Light and Truth are her treasures of hope;
Made waiting and yearning for His gift of beloved’s homecoming firmly hold.
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The irregular meter and rhyme scheme tripped me up a bit--and FYI, the first word should have been 'Tis (the apostrophe takes the place of the 'i' in the longer form--'it is').
You have the heart of a great poet--keep writing!
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