I've Almost Grown A Portion Of This Place

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Title:     I've Almost Grown A Portion Of This Place
Author: Charles Sangster [More Titles by Sangster]

I've almost grown a portion of this place,
I seem familiar with each mossy stone;
Even the nimble chipmunk passes on,
And looks, but never scolds me. Birds have flown
And almost touched my hand; and I can trace
The wild bees to their hives. I've never known
So sweet a pause from labour. But the tone
Of a past sorrow, like a mournful rill
Threading the heart of some melodious hill,
Or the complainings of the whippoorwill,
Passes through every thought, and hope, and aim.
It has its uses; for it cools the flame
Of ardent love that burns my being up--
Love, life's celestial pearl, diffused through all its cup.

[The end]
Charles Sangster's poem: I've Almost Grown A Portion Of This Place

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