O Earth, who daily kissed His feet Like lowly Magdalen, how sweet (As oft His mother used) to keep The silent watches of His sleep, Till love demands the prisoner, And Death replies, "He is not here. He passed my portal, where, afraid, My footsteps faltered to invade The region that beyond me lies; Then, ere the dawn, I saw Him rise In glory that dispelled my gloom And made a temple of the tomb." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CALIFORNIA CITY LANDSCAPE by CARL SANDBURG THE ROLLING ENGLISH ROAD by GILBERT KEITH CHESTERTON EPIGRAM: HERO AND LEANDER by JOHN DONNE SUMMER NIGHT, RIVERSIDE by SARA TEASDALE A PETITION by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE WANDERER: 5. IN HOLLAND: AUTUMN by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |