This gloomy northern day, Or this yet gloomier night, Has moved a something high In my cold heart; and I, That do not often pray, Would pray to-night. And first on Thee I call For bread, O God of might! Enough of bread for all,''" That through the famished town Cold hunger may lie down With none to-night. I pray for hope no less, Strong-sinewed hope, O Lord, That to the struggling young May preach with brazen tongue Stout Labour, high success, And bright reward. And last, O Lord, I pray For hearts resigned and bold To trudge the dusty way''" Hearts stored with song and joke And warmer than a cloak Against the cold. If nothing else he had, He who has this, has all. This comforts under pain; This, through the stinging rain, Keeps ragamuffin glad Behind the wall. This makes the sanded inn A palace for a Prince, And this, when griefs begin And cruel fate annoys, Can bring to mind the joys Of ages since. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MY LADY'S TEARS by JOHN DOWLAND BILL AND JOE by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES FOR MY OWN TOMBSTONE by MATTHEW PRIOR JUDGE NOT by ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER THE CENTAUR'S FAREWELL by WILLIAM ROSE BENET ASOLANDO: POETICS by ROBERT BROWNING |