THIS infant world has taken long to make! Nor hast Thou done the making of it yet, But wilt be working on when death has set A new mound in some church-yard for my sake. On flow the centuries without a break; Uprise the mountains, ages without let; The lichens suck the rock's breast -- food they get: Years more than past, the young earth yet will take. But in the dumbness of the rolling time, No veil of silence shall encompass me: Thou wilt not once forget and let me be; Rather wouldst Thou some old chaotic prime Invade, and, with a tenderness sublime, Unfold a world, that I, thy child, might see. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...VERY EARLY SPRING by KATHERINE MANSFIELD JOHN BROWN by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON THE DEAR PRESIDENT by JOHN JAMES PIATT THE TROOPS by SIEGFRIED SASSOON FOR YOU O DEMOCRACY by WALT WHITMAN WHEN I READ THE BOOK by WALT WHITMAN |