YET, rolling far up some green mountaindale, Oft let me hear, as ofttimes I have heard, Thy swell, thou deep! when evening calls the bird And bee to rest; when summer-tints grow pale, Seen through the gathering of a dewy veil; And peasant-steps are hastening to repose, And gleaming flocks lie down, and flowercups close To the last whisper of the falling gaie. Then 'midst the dying of all other sound, When the soul hears thy distant voice profound. Lone worshipping, and knows that through the night 'Twill worship still, then most its anthemtone Speaks to our being of the Eternal One, Who girds tired nature with unslumbering might. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE COMING by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE THE INDIGO BIRD by JOHN BURROUGHS HECALE. DAYBREAK IN THE CITY by CALLIMACHUS AFTER THE WAR by FRANCOIS COPPEE VISIONS IN VERSE: 9. DEATH. VISION THE LAST by NATHANIEL COTTON STANZAS PRINTED ON BILLS OF MORTALITY: 1788 by WILLIAM COWPER |