O what a weary while it is to stand, Telling the countless ages o'er and o'er, Till all the finger-tips held out before Our dazzled eyes by heaven's starry hand Drop one by one, yet at some dread command Are held again, and counted evermore! How feverish the music seems to pour Along the throbbing veins of anthems grand! And how the cherubim sing on and on - The seraphim and angels - still enraptured - far withdrawn In hovering armies tranced in endless flight! . . . God's mercy! is there never dusk or dawn, Or any crumb of gloom to feed upon? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A BIRTHDAY SONG by SIDNEY LANIER THE ROCK OF CASHEL by AUBREY DE VERE BITTER-SWEET: CRADLE SONG [OR, BABYHOOD] by JOSIAH GILBERT HOLLAND IRELAND (1847) by DENIS FLORENCE MCCARTHY BURIAL by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY WHEN I PERUSE THE CONQUER'D FAME by WALT WHITMAN SEVEN SAD SONNETS: 7. THEY MEET AGAIN by MARY REYNOLDS ALDIS THE CARPENTER by AMY BRUNER ALMY SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 40. PANTHEISTIC DREAMS by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) |