The Drunkards in the street are calling one another, Heeding not the night-wind, great of heart and gay, -- Publicans and wantons -- Calling, laughing, calling, While the Spirit bloweth Space and Time away. Why should I feel the sobbing, the secrecy, the glory, This comforter, this fitful wind divine? I the cautious Pharisee, the scribe, the whited sepulchre -- I have no right to God, he is not mine. - - - - - Within their gutters, drunkards dream of Hell. I say my prayers by my white bed to-night, With the arms of God about me, with the angels singing, singing Until the grayness of my soul grows white. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE MAHOGANY TREE by WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY ON THE MOOR by ROBERT ADAMSON (1832-) ON THE STATUE OF AN ANGEL, BY BIENAIME by WASHINGTON ALLSTON EMBLEMS OF LOVE: 6. FAIR AND SOFTLY by PHILIP AYRES TWO SONNETS: 1. CHRIST AND LOVE'S ROSE-CROWN by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) PSALM 4. CUM INVOCAREM by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE ON THE DEATH OF SIR JAMES HUNTER BLAIR by ROBERT BURNS BALLAD TO THE TUNE - 'ONCE I LOVED A MAIDEN FAIR' by PATRICK CAREY |