LET my soul, a shining tree, Silver branches lift towards thee, Where on a hallowed winter's night The clear-eyed angels may alight. And if there should be tempests in My spirit, let them surge like din Of noble melodies at war; With fervour of such blades of triumph as are Flashed in white orisons of saints who go On shafts of glory to the ecstasies they know. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE RAILWAY TRAIN by EMILY DICKINSON LAMENT FOR FLODDEN [FIELD] by JEAN ELLIOT (1727-1805) THE TENT ON THE BEACH: 3. THE GRAVE BY THE LAKE by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER NEXT DAY; IN THE TRAIN by LAWRENCE ALMA-TADEMA VERSES TO THE MEMORY OF P. BURGESS; A CHILD OF SUPERIOR ENDOWMENTS by BERNARD BARTON THE MOTHER'S SONG by VIRGINIA WOODWARD CLOUD YE GENTLE GALES by GEORGE CRABBE |