IN the night Gray, heavy clouds muffled the valleys, And the peaks looked toward God alone. "O Master, that movest the wind with a finger, Humble, idle, futile peaks are we. Grant that we may run swiftly across the world To huddle in worship at Thy feet." In the morning A noise of men at work came the clear blue miles, And the little black cities were apparent. "O Master, that knowest the meaning of raindrops, Humble, idle, futile peaks are we. Give voice to us, we pray, O Lord, That we may sing Thy goodness to the sun." In the evening The far valleys were sprinkled with tiny lights. "O Master, Thou that knowest the value of kings and birds, Thou hast made us humble, idle, futile peaks. Thou only needest eternal patience; We bow to Thy wisdom, O Lord -- Humble, idle, futile peaks." In the night Gray, heavy clouds muffled the valleys, And the peaks looked toward God alone. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DINING-ROOM TEA by RUPERT BROOKE FIRST BOOK OF AIRS: 20. A HAPPY MARRIAGE by THOMAS CAMPION A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 15 by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN THE TEMERAIRE by HERMAN MELVILLE EVERYONE SANG by SIEGFRIED SASSOON MEDITATION AT KEW by ANNA WICKHAM VERSES ADDRESSED TO IMITATOR OF FIRST SATIRE OF HORACE by MARY WORTLEY MONTAGU |