O PATIENT-EYED and tender saint, Too far from thee I stand, With vain desires perplexed and faint; Reach out thy helping hand. No fire is on the holy hill, No voice on Sinai now; But, in our gloom and darkness still Abiding, help me thou. They move on whom thy light is shed Through lives of larger scope; For them beneath the false and dead There stirs a quickening hope. So on some gusty morn we mark The reddening tops of trees, And hear in carols of the lark Thespesian promises. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FOURTH BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 7. CHERRY RIPE by THOMAS CAMPION THE ONE GRAY HAIR by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR OH! BLAME NOT THE BARD by THOMAS MOORE THE VIOLINIST by MARGARET STEELE ANDERSON DROWNED IN HARBOUR by ANTIPATER OF THESSALONICA THE ARGONAUTS (ARGONATUICA): JASON'S SOWING AND REAPING by APOLLONIUS RHODIUS |