WAKING in the night to pray, Sleeping when the answer comes, Foolish are we even at play— Tearfully we beat our drums! Cast the good dry bread away, Weep, and gather up the crumbs! "Evermore," while shines the day, "Lord," we cry, "thy will be done!" Soon as evening groweth gray, Thy fair will we fain would shun! "Take, oh, take thy hand away! See the horrid dark begun!" "Thou hast conquered Death," we say, "Christ, whom Hades could not keep!" Then, "Ah, see the pallid clay! Death it is," we cry, "not sleep! Grave, take all. Shut out the Day. Sit we on the ground and weep!" Gathering potsherds all the day, Truant children, Lord, we roam; Fret, and longer want to play, When at cool thy voice doth come!— Elder Brother, lead the way; Make us good as we go home. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO A PINE TREE by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL THE POET: A RHAPSODY by MARK AKENSIDE COURAGE THAT OVERCOMES by MARGARETE ROSE AKIN INVULNERABLE by WILLIAM ROSE BENET DENNER'S OLD WOMAN by VINCENT BOURNE ODE ON THE DEPARTED REGENCY BILL by ROBERT BURNS A SPRING THOUGHT by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON AT THE ROADHOUSE: IN MEMORY OF ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON by BLISS CARMAN |