DEAR bard and prophet, that thy rest is deep, Thanks be to God! Not now on thy heart falls Rumor intolerable. Sleep, O sleep! See not the blood of Israel that crawls Warm yet, into the moon and night; that cries Even as of old, till all the world stands still At rapine that even to Israel's agonies Seems strange and monstrous, a mad dream of ill. Thou sleepest! Yea, but as in grief we said:— There is a spiritual life unconquerable. So, bard of the ancient people, though, being dead Thou speakest and thy voice we love full well. Never thy holy memory forsakes us; Thy spirit is the trumpet that awakes us! RICHARD WATSON GILDER. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A PRAYER FOR A VERY NEW ANGEL by VIOLET ALLEYN STOREY THE BUOY-BELL by CHARLES TENNYSON TURNER THE BEAUTIFUL LAND OF NOD by ELLA WHEELER WILCOX EHEU, FUGACES! by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS AN ARMOURY by ALCAEUS OF MYTILENE ADDRESS TO A STEAM-VESSEL by JOANNA BAILLIE CRETONNE TROPICS by GRACE HAZARD CONKLING TALES OF THE HALL: BOOK 3. THE BOYS AT SCHOOL by GEORGE CRABBE |