In the hushed and reverent woodland Where the twilight shadows dwell All the birds are going to meeting, And the hermit rings the bell. "Co-o-ome, come to church this evening," So the little sexton sings; "Co-o-ome, come to prayer and praises," Through the woods the summon rings. Then another hermit answers From a belfry green and high; "Co-o-ome, yes, we'll come and gladly," Is the musical reply. Soon across the woodland spaces Other sextons ply their bells, Till the forest is a-quiver Deep in all its hidden dells. And the wistful mortal straying Underneath the brooding trees, Captured by the mood of worship, Sinks his soul on bended knees. Spoken words and ritual order? Stately spire and arched hall? Nay, the world is a cathedral When we hear the hermit's call. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CASTAWAY by WILLIAM COWPER THE NIGHT COURT by RUTH COMFORT MITCHELL SONNET: 20. A FAREWELL by PHILIP SIDNEY NO SECOND TROY by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS THE TOMBS OF THE KINGS by MATHILDE BLIND HE WILL GIVE ME POWER by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE |