Not if men's tongues and angels' all in one Spake, might the word be said that might speak Thee. Streams, winds, woods, flowers, fields, mountains, yea, the sea, What power is in them all to praise the sun? His praise is this, -- he can be praised of none. Man, woman, child, praise God for him; but he He is; and, being, beholds his work well done. All joy, all glory, all sorrow, all strength, all mirth, Are his: without him, day were night on earth. Time knows not his from time's own period. All lutes, all harps, all viols, all flutes, all lyres, Fall dumb before him ere one string suspires, All stars are angels; but the sun is God. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THEY HAVEN'T HEARD THE WEST IS OVER by JAMES GALVIN TO THE MARTYRED by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON SQUIRE BOWLING GREEN by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SONG OF AUTUMN by PAUL VERLAINE ULTIMA THULE: MY CATHEDRAL by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW EPISTLE TO ROBERT, EARL OF OXFORD, AND EARL MORTIMER by ALEXANDER POPE HOMAGE TO QUINTUS SEPTIMIUS FLORENTIS CHRISTIANUS (2) by ANYTE |