Who knows what days I answer for today: Giving the bud I give the flower. I bow This yet unfaded and a faded brow; Bending these knees and feeble knees, I pray. Thoughts yet unripe in me I bend one way, Give one repose to pain I know not now, One leaven to joy that comes, I guess not how. I dedicate my fields when Spring is grey. Oh, rash! (I smile) to pledge my hidden wheat. I fold today at altars far apart Hands trembling with what toils? In their retreat I seal my love to-be, my folded art. I light the tapers at my head and feet, And lay the crucifix on this silent heart. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...QUEST by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON DECEMBER by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THIS FLESH by KENNETH SLADE ALLING STANZAS COMPOSED AT CARNAC by MATTHEW ARNOLD INVITATION TO PETERHEAD by JAMES HAY BEATTIE A POEM, DEDICATED TO WILLIAM LAW, PROFESSOR OF PHILOSOPHY by ROBERT BLAIR |