I AND JOY
Joy came my way, While the sun was on hay to pray.
'Hey!', she'd called,waving at me. Biding me to stop-I,measuring the field.
I focused on the path that leads to distinction, Climbing creepers,waving distress-my expulsion.
The praying sun,spoke greatly in tongues, That her words hitted me like throngs.
Toward my path to Canaan, Before me was the undisciplined Hamaan:
Whirling to and fro like east wind, Arresting my attention,pulling my limb.
But my attention was bethroted to Success, Regarding none but the seeming process.
The Old Oak Over the trees smile faintly, Biding me that,good turn comes gradually.
0.5 miles to the aim, Joy was seen beyond the lane.
Halt was i,Mouth agape; Twas veiled to me that,all success are Joy's gave. 17:11:16:14:10