The Brothers of Saint Francis

The age of ruthless speeding Tears madly on today, But the Brothers of St. Francis Must fare afoot alway.

No privilege of leisure Their ministry commands, With a message in their girdle For the freeing of the lands.

Yet thrushes fill their twilights And stars of morning sing, As they take the dust of travel On the Business of the King.

Soft sleep and easy faring For those to riches bound; For the Brothers of St. Francis A blanket on the ground.

But ah, what dreams attend them Before the stars grow wan,— Visions of joy triumphant When violence is gone!

The greedy will be fighting With tooth and nail and sword, But the Brothers of St. Francis Must pattern by their Lord.

The foolish will be striving With words and words and words, But the Brothers of St. Francis Have secrets with the birds.

At evening and at morning They hear their brothers sing, And their hearts leap up with gladness On the Highroad of the King.