Nor, though she seem to cast with backward hand Strange measure, sunny cold or cloudy heat, Or break with stamping rain the farmer's wheat, Yet in such waste no waste the soul descries, Intent to glean by barrenest sea and land. For whoso waiteth, long and patiently, Will see a movement stirring at his feet-- If he but wait nor think himself much wise. Nay, from the mind itself a glimpse will rest Upon the dark; summoning from vacancy Dim shapes about his intellectual lamp, Calling these in and causing him to see; As the night-heron waking in the swamp Lights up the pools with her phosphoric breast. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DISARMAMENT by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER STANZAS TO A LADY by JOHN CODRINGTON BAMPFYLDE THE UNIVERSAL MOTHER by SABINE BARING-GOULD MARTIN RELPH by ROBERT BROWNING HASTINGS' SONNETS: 4 by SAMUEL EGERTON BRYDGES |