Behold the silvered mists that rise From all-night toiling in the corn. The mists have duties up the skies, The skies have duties with the morn; While all the world is full of earnest care To make the fair world still more wondrous fair, More lordly fair; the stately morn Moves down the walk of golden wheat; Her guards of honor gild the corn In golden pathway for her feet; The purpled hills she crowns in crowns of gold, And God walks with us as He walked of old. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CASE OF ALBERT IRVING WILLIAMSON by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS TO HIS WORSHIPFULL GOOD FRIEND, MAISTER JOHN STEVENTON by RICHARD BARNFIELD THE ROMAUNT OF THE PAGE by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING PSYCHE by WILLIAM ALLEN BUTLER BALLADE OF AUGUST by PATRICK REGINALD CHALMERS JEFF HART by CHARLES BADGER CLARK JR. |