I NEVER lay me down to sleep at night But in my heart I sing that little song: The angels hear it as, a pitying throng, They touch my burning lids with fingers bright As moonbeams, pale, impalpable, and light: And when my daily pious tasks are done, And all my patient prayers said one by one, God hears it. Seems it sinful in His sight That round my slow burnt-offering of quenched will One quivering human sigh creeps wind-like still? That when my orisons celestial fail Rises one note of natural human wail? Dear lord, spouse, hero, martyr, saint! erelong, I trust, God will forgive my singing that poor song. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ARCTURUS IN AUTUMN by SARA TEASDALE THE SONG OF THE PILGRIMS by RUPERT BROOKE A MEDITATION ON RHODE ISLAND COAL by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT ELEGY ON THYRZA by GEORGE GORDON BYRON MISS KILMANSEGG AND HER PRECIOUS LEG: HER BIRTH by THOMAS HOOD |