Lines at 200
a nosegay for those who have patiently waited
Old seems are unrelieved by discord's strain.
The fish are reft which nets fail to contain.
False threadbare tares await the Fisher's touch
That tuneless strings made whole may sing and clutch.
'Tis not enough to ply the prayerful seine.
Dear Christ must point the way and mind maintain
So nothing's lost that He has giv'n a place
And broken thoughts are healed by Love's pure grace.