Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE OLD SAINT, by EDWARD NOYES POMEROY


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE OLD SAINT, by                    
First Line: The day is gone, the solemn night draws down
Last Line: God's city with the mansions of the blest.
Subject(s): Dreams; Old Age; Pilgrimages & Pilgrims; Rest; Sleep; Nightmares


The day is gone, the solemn night draws down;
From the dim deeps their treasured splendors stream.
She sleeps, like Jacob near the Syrian town;
And earth and heaven commingle in her dream.

Her faithful life is drawing to a close,
Its labors and its cares she leaves behind;
And mirror-like, her peaceful visage shows
A trusting heart and a will disciplined.

Low as the wavelets whisper to the sand,
Soft as the moonlight's message to the sea,
Low, soft, and sweet, here in the border-land,
The mortal's call to immortality.

She hears the mother-song of long ago,
She breathes the verse that was her evening prayer;
Her brow is whiter than the sifted snow,
Her lips and heart are silent, she is there.

There, where the troublings of the wicked cease;
There, where the tired pilgrim is at rest;
There, in the haven of eternal peace,—
God's city with the mansions of the blest.





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