WHEN the day is growing old And the stars their vigils keep, Lo, a gentle voice within Calling to the fold of sleep. Whither, thither, know I not: His the silence, His the care, When my soul is called to rest, Shepherded by quiet prayer. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BALLAD OF JUDAS ISCARIOT by ROBERT WILLIAMS BUCHANAN THE FIGHTING RACE [FEBRUARY 16, 1898] by JOSEPH IGNATIUS CONSTANTINE CLARKE MOTHER NATURE by EMILY DICKINSON THE SPANISH FRIAR: 1-3. LOVE'S DESPAIR by JOHN DRYDEN THE SONG OF SHERMAN'S ARMY by CHARLES GRAHAM HALPINE |