Doris M Holden - Writings
Transcripts, manuscript and published versions
TO EACH HIS VISION
I could not find Him where the vestured priests
Intoned the ancient ritual of prayer.
My neighbour bowed the knee,
And yet to me
He was not there.
I could not find Him where the bugles called
And men cried: " Hallelujah!" to the sky.
My neighbour sobbed His name—
To her He came
‘And passed me by.
Yet on a busy day when spring winds blew
My billowing linen to the bleaching sun,
‘That Man Who served with wood
So clearly stood,
‘Smiling: “ Well done!”
Any Notes on the Article or Story (If available)
Any available related correspondence, and versions for this piece are shown below:
Publication Reference details if known
The City Temple Tidings September 1937, Also submitted Womans Magazine October 1936
Return to "Other Published" Contents List:
