PLEASANT the ways whereon our feet were led, Sweet the young hills, the valleys of content, But now the hours of dew and dream have fled. Lord, we are spent. We did not heed Thy warning in the skies, We have not heard Thy voice nor known Thy fold; But now the world is darkening to our eyes. Lord, we grow old. Now the sweet stream turns bitter with our tears, Now dies the star we followed in the west, Now are we sad and ill at ease with years. Lord, we would rest. Lo, our proud lamps are emptied of their light, Weary our hands to toil, our feet to roam; Our day is past and swiftly falls Thy night. Lord, lead us home. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE POOR by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS PSALM 121 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE THE DESERTED GARDEN by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING BRONX, 1818 by JOSEPH RODMAN DRAKE DICKENS IN CAMP by FRANCIS BRET HARTE GOD'S GRANDEUR by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS ECCLESIASTICAL SONNETS: PART 3: 5. WALTON'S BOOK OF LIVE by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH |