In that still home, while Tyne went murmuring by The old man's days were confident and calm, Like organ-notes that close melodiously The marches of a psalm. Yet to the end it pleased him to dispense The gathered harvest of a long increase, From his wise words, benign intelligence. And from his presence, peace. And sometimes on his brow would seem to be The hint and dawn of an immortal grace, And some impalpable expectancy Would settle in his face: So standeth one by night whose purged ears Hark for a secret which the stars shall tell. So hears the wondering child, or scarcely hears, The sighing of the shell. O show us the arousal and uprise Which crowns and pays the waiting of the past ! O Father, tell us if those wistful eyes Are satisfied at last! "They on the Lord that wait," He answereth, "As mounting eagles shall their strength renew. How safe the souls whom God encompasseth! Their wants are very few." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CURIOSITY by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR SONG OF SUMMER by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR ANOTHER GRACE FOR A CHILD by ROBERT HERRICK FOR YOU O DEMOCRACY by WALT WHITMAN LINES WRITTEN IN SWITZERLAND by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES A MEMORY by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 27 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH |