Thomas Akers

Who sees what the watchman sees
As he walks his own solitary round?
When the leaves have left the trees
And the lights are turned low down?

Who feels what the watchman feels
When the lon…

Beyond the distant fence, beyond that field
Are imagined places; I’d hoped to be real.
Not now, but someday I’ll go and find
Lands hinted by God to my doubting mind.

As the sailor to sea,…