Anchor of Men

cold stones along the stream that morning
blessed with the touch of such water pure
were as the great thought my heart adorning
the foundation of life and love so sure

unknowingly fragile are the dreams of men
like the needles of saplings upon that bank
which, rustled and tossed by wind, had been
often lost, and into those pools had sank

those stones
such thoughts of thee
so good and clear
have caught
my tender dreams
and kept them dear