Page:Poems by Robert Louis Stevenson, Hitherto unpublished, 1921.djvu/53

 Thoughts jostled thoughts—By hill and glade

They scattered far and wide like sheep,

I stretched my arms—I cried—I prayed—

They heard not—I began to weep.

My head grew giddy-weak—I tried

To drown my reason. All in vain.

I lay upon my face and cried

Most bitterly to God again.

God put a thought into my hand,

God gave me a resolve, an aim.

I blew it trumpet-wise—the band

Of scattered fancies heard and came.

They heard the bugle tones I blew—

The wandering thoughts came dropping in;

They took their ranks in silence due—

One hour, and would the march begin?

The march began; and once begun

The serious purpose, true design

Has held my being knit in one—

My being kept the thoughts in line.

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