John Vance Cheney

I discovered John Vance Cheney this morning. A poem he had written was part of my morning devotions.

Who drives the horses of the sun
Shall lord it but a day;
Better the lowly deed were done,
And kept the humble way.

The rust will find the sword of fame,
The dust will hide the crown;
Ay, none shall nail so high his name
Time will not tear it down.

The happiest heart that ever beat
Was in some quiet breast
That found the common daylight sweet,
And left to Heaven the rest.

Wow. The birds outside my door trilled happily at finding fresh seeds in their feeder. My cats perched themselves as near to the door as they could without frightening the birds away. I read my devotions and wondered at the sweet simplicity of the moment.

I found another poem by Cheney on the Internet:

Not in the time of pleasure
Hope doth set her bow;
But in the sky of sorrow,
Over the vale of woe.

Through gloom and shadow look we
On beyond the years!
The soul would have no rainbow
Had the eyes no tears.

Indeed.