O God within the awful voiceless void,— God of the terrible and viewless night, God also of the burning midday light,— God, by whose hand the countless stars are buoyed, And all the golden sunrise-clouds deployed, And all the ridges of the sea made bright, And the far snow-fields limitlessly white,— God whom the green woods worship, overjoyed:— We cannot reach thee: yet can prayer make head Against the glittering tide of stars and suns And reach thy gracious central throne at once? Can our lone cry surmount the hill-tops red With fiery sunset? Can we find thee, Lord,— Or are our groans towards earless heights outpoured! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LION'S RIDE by FERDINAND FREILIGRATH OUR COUNTRY by JULIA WARD HOWE DRUG STORE by JOHN VAN ALSTYN WEAVER THE SHIPMAN'S TALE by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH TO A WITHERED ROSE by JOHN KENDRICK BANGS VINCENT VAN GOGH by HARRIET R. BEAN |