Behold the silvered mists that rise From all-night toiling in the corn. The mists have duties up the skies, The skies have duties with the morn; While all the world is full of earnest care To make the fair world still more wondrous fair, More lordly fair; the stately morn Moves down the walk of golden wheat; Her guards of honor gild the corn In golden pathway for her feet; The purpled hills she crowns in crowns of gold, And God walks with us as He walked of old. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TWO FUNERALS: 1. by LOUIS UNTERMEYER APOLOGIA PRO VITA SUA by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE THE UNPARDONABLE SIN by NICHOLAS VACHEL LINDSAY TO A BUTTERFLY (1) by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH ON H----YS FRIENDSHIP by WILLIAM BLAKE AWAKENING by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE ON THE RANGE by BARCROFT HENRY BOAKE HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 17 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH |