In the flower of days I turn my gaze
On those fabled glories of yesteryear
Lost to me in this vale of tears and haze.
How could I hope to purchase one so dear?
And now you see me here all dressed in white
I have not hope in hell but thee, I see.
To you I lift up mine eyes full bright
And tell the world the truth that set me free.
Oh please dear one, make me thy star of one
And purge the night of all grim hopelessness.
'Tis all to me that when the battle's done
You know I stood, tireless, for blessedness.
Know I strike my standard plea toward thee:
Wilt thou this, my verse, accept it freely?
Barbara Butler McCoy
[Photo: "Dawn," Barbara Butler McCoy, 2009]
