Waking I look to Jesus on the Rood And thank him that the ghostly night is gone; Until my soul had seen the Holy Cross I never knew the dawn. All colors were as darkness save the hues That even our dull bodily eyes can see, But now is God grown fair beyond the East Upon His blessed tree. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NOCTURNE IN A MINOR KEY by CONRAD AIKEN VARIATIONS: 17 by CONRAD AIKEN WISDOM COMETH WITH THE YEARS by COUNTEE CULLEN PLACE FOR A THIRD by ROBERT FROST THE MEASURE OF THE YEAR by JAMES GALVIN |