God's peace and the moon on the meadow's dead clover. Dawn's hush and the fresh breath of morn spilling over Down the long dusty lane from the thicket's close cover. The dust clouds fly hot from the sober hoofs hieing Across the scorched prairies from far fields outlying; Plodding out thro' brown grasses and wayside weeds drying, With the wayside wings whirring—slow poising—far flying; Trailing out to the blue timber line's cool inbreathing, To the spring with the wagons their blue smoke enwreathing, And the ranging white tents the encampment ensheathing. The fresh dews at nightfall breathe fragrant and bearing New straw and new lumber, with the tall torches flaring Above hurrying feet over God's upland faring, Tired faces uplifted; while the rolling hymns wearing Away thro' the woods, touch the restless tired tether, The clanking of harness, the creak of worn leather, With the mists and the moon and the weather—God's weather. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A SMILE AS SMALL AS MINE by EMILY DICKINSON ON THE DEATH OF SIR THOMAS WYATT by HENRY HOWARD KATIE LEE AND WILLIE GREY by JOSIE R. HUNT THE ROPEWALK by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE WALKER OF THE SNOW by CHARLES DAWSON SHANLY THE BEST MEMORIAL by AGATHIAS SCHOLASTICUS INSCRIPTIONS: 4 by MARK AKENSIDE MISADVENTURES AT MARGATE; A LEGEND OF JARVIS'S JETTY by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM |