FOLD ye the ice-cold hands Calm on the pulseless breast; The toil of the summer day is o'er, Now cometh the evening rest; And the folded hands have nobly wrought Through noontide's din and strife, And the dauntless heart hath bravely fought In the ceaseless war of life. Smooth ye the time-thinned hair Still on the marble brow; No earthly could doth linger there To mar its beauty now. But brow and lip and darkened eye Bear a shade of deep repose, As twilight shadows softly lie On the wide-spread winter snows. No voice of discord wakes The silence still and deep, And the far-off sounds of worldly strife Cannot break the dreamless sleep. Oh, welcome rest to a heart long tossed On the tide of hopes and fears, -- To the feet that have wandered far and wide O'er the weary waste of years. From the gorgeous glare of day, Welcome the gentle night, Fading the tranquil lines away, Solemn and calm and bright. Then tenderly, tenderly fold the hands In peace on the pulseless breast, For the evening shadows come quickly on, And sweet is the Christian's rest. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE ANGEL, FR. SONGS OF EXPERIENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE THE BRIDGE: PROEM. TO BROOKLYN BRIDGE by HAROLD HART CRANE ARABELLA STUART by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS THE SEARCH FOR LEAVEN by ALTER ABELSON HUDSON RIVER ANTHOLOGY by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS |