THE twilight heavens are flushed with gathering light, And o'er wet roofs and huddling streets below Hand with a strange Apocalyptic glow On the black fringes of the wintry night. Such bursts of glory may have rapt the sight Of him to whom on Patmos long ago The visionary angel came to show That heavenly city built of chrysolite. And lo, three factory hands begrimed with soot, Aflame with the red splendour, marvelling stand, And gaze with lifted faces awed and mute. Starved of earth's beauty by Man's grudging hand, O toilers, robbed of labour's golden fruit, Ye, too, may feast in Nature's fairyland. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPRING QUIET by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI THE DEPARTED by JOHN BANISTER TABB KEEPING ENDLESS HOLIDAY by TITUS PETRONIUS NIGER FIRMILIAN; A TRAGEDY by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN THE OLD KIRK YARD by THOMAS HAYNES BAYLY TITIAN'S ASSUMPTION by WILLIAM ALLEN BUTLER |