WITH each new day new cares will wait for thee,
Trials and heart-aches; yet do thou not fear,
But take them lovingly, and, weaving them
Into a crown of thorns, wear and let be
For ever on thy head, a diadem,
5
More royal than gold, the dearest token here
Of that sad voice that whispers, "Follow Me."
The Crown Of Thorns
Frederick George Scott
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Poem topics: fear, heart, sad, voice, head, crown, wait, gold, follow, Valentine's Day, token, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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