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PARABLES

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Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · Feb 12, 1894

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 20, No. 15.

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PARABLES.

By Clara Thwaites

EARTH brings her parables of loss and gain In boldest speech. Yet heights sublime, which spirits shall attain, She cannot reach. Aerial whispers float o'er land and sea— "It doth not yet appear what we shall be."
Her royal purples, and her crowns of gold, Her white attire, The sceptered lilies, which her summers hold, With flames afire— All fail to show the glory we shall see— "It doth not yet appear what we shall be."
Who, from unsightly bulb or slender root, Could guess aright The glory of the flower, the fern, the fruit, In summer's height? Through tremulous shadows voices call to me— "It doth not yet appear what we shall be."
Triumphant guesses from the seer and sage Through shadows dart And tender meanings on the poet's page Console the heart. O songs prophetic! though sweet are ye, "It doth not yet appear what we shall be." —Clara Thwaites.