Lo, as the poet finds at will Than tenderest words a tenderer still For one beside him prest; So from the Lord a mercy flows, A sweeter balm from Sharon's rose, For her that loves him best. And ere the early throstles stir With some sweet word from God for her The morn returns anew; For her His face in the east is fair, For her His breath is in the air, His rainbow in the dew. At such an hour the promise falls With glory on the narrow walls, With strength on failing breath; There comes a courage in her eyes, It gathers for the great emprize, The deeds of after death. Albeit thro' this preluding woe Subdued and softly she must go With half her music dumb, What heavenly hopes to her belong, And what a rapture, what a song, Shall greet His kingdom come! So climbers by some Alpine mere Walk very softly thro' the clear Unlitten dawn of day: The morning star before them shows Beyond the rocks, beyond the snows, Their never-travelled way. Or so, ere singers have begun, The master-organist has won The folk at eve to prayer: So soft the tune, it only seems The music of an angel's dreams Made audible in air. But when the mounting treble shakes, When with a noise the anthem wakes A song forgetting sin,— Thro' all her pipes the organ peals, With all her voice at last reveals The storm of praise within. The trump! the trump! how pure and high! How clear the fairy flutes reply! How bold the clarions blow! Nor God Himself has scorned the strain, But hears it and shall hear again, And heard it long ago. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TRANSFIGURATION by MARGIE B. BOSWELL JOSEPH'S REFORM (A TALE OF THE HOT DOG TAVERN) by BERTON BRALEY CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE: CANTO 2 by GEORGE GORDON BYRON LINES WRITTEN AT MIDNIGHT DURING A THUNDER-STORM by ELIZABETH CARTER NOCTURNE by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE THE BOOKWORM by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE TO MR. R.W. [ROWLAND WOODWARD] (4) by JOHN DONNE UPON THE TRANSLATION OF THE PSALMS BY SIR PHILIP SYDNEY & HIS SISTER by JOHN DONNE |