Ready for Departure

When I see aged men whose eyes are blurred

With years of toil sitting resignedly

And seeing without apprehending all

That passes, gazing mildly on the herd

That still pursue gold animatedly.

They sometimes spit, and often loll and sprawl

As though the game of living were absurd.

I wonder if they think how wretchedly

Man uses this great gift of life; how small

He measures up against th’Incarnate Word !

Do their souls, loosed from the chains of greed,

Turn from the spectacle of busy ants

To contemplate the business of the saints,

And press upon the door of heaven indeed?

 

Weekly Times   8.4.60