If radio's slim fingers can pluck a melody From night—and toss it over a continent or sea; If the petalled white notes of a violin Are blown across the mountains or the city's din; If songs, like crimson roses, are culled from thin blue air— Why should mortals wonder if God hears prayer? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE HERETIC: 3. MOCKERY by LOUIS UNTERMEYER HALF-WAKING by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM BALLADE OF DEAD ACTORS by WILLIAM ERNEST HENLEY SEVEN TIMES FOUR [ - MATERNITY] by JEAN INGELOW NO LONGER COULD I DOUBT HIM TRUE by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR SCUM O' THE EARTH' by ROBERT HAVEN SCHAUFFLER |