O what a weary while it is to stand, Telling the countless ages o'er and o'er, Till all the finger-tips held out before Our dazzled eyes by heaven's starry hand Drop one by one, yet at some dread command Are held again, and counted evermore! How feverish the music seems to pour Along the throbbing veins of anthems grand! And how the cherubim sing on and on - The seraphim and angels - still enraptured - far withdrawn In hovering armies tranced in endless flight! . . . God's mercy! is there never dusk or dawn, Or any crumb of gloom to feed upon? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IN A STRANGE CITY by LOUIS UNTERMEYER SONNET - REALITIES: 1 by EDWARD ESTLIN CUMMINGS THE WAVES OF BREFFNY by EVA GORE-BOOTH TALES OF A WAYSIDE INN: THE FIRST DAY: PAUL REVERE'S RIDE [APRIL 1775] by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE JOURNEY ONWARDS by THOMAS MOORE LINES COMPOSED A FEW MILES ABOVE TINTERN ABBEY by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH |