THO' the Earth with age seems whitened, And her tresses hoary and old No longer are flushed and brightened By glintings of brown or gold, A voice from the Syrian highlands, O'er waters that flash and stir, By the belts of their tropic islands, Still singeth of joy to her! A song which the centuries hallow! Though softer than April rain That soweth on field and fallow, A spell that shall rise in grain -- Yet deep as the sea-strain chanted On the fluctuant ocean-lyre, By the magical west-wind haunted, With the pulse of his soul on fire! A promise to lift the lowly, -- To weed the soul of its tares, And change into harmonies holy The discord of fierce despairs: A glory of high Evangels, Of rhythmical storms and calms; All hail to the voices of angels, Heard over the starlit palms! A hymn of hope to the ages, The music of deathless trust, No frenzy of mortal rages Can darken with doubt or dust; A rapture of high evangels, But centred in sacred calms! Ah! still the chorus of angels Thrills over the Bethlehem palms! Still heralds the day-spring tender, That never can melt or close, Till the noon of its deepening splendor Out-blooms, like a mystic rose, Whose petals are rays supernal Of love that hath all sufficed, -- And whose heart is the grace eternal, Of the fathomless peace of Christ! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IMPRESSION by EDMUND WILLIAM GOSSE MY MARYLAND by JAMES RYDER RANDALL THE WIDOW; SAPPHICS by ROBERT SOUTHEY THE ART OF PRESERVING HEALTH: BOOK 3. ON WASHING by JOHN ARMSTRONG PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 3. AR-RAHEEM by EDWIN ARNOLD THE IVORY GATE; LOVE-IN-IDLENESS by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES |