As froth on the face of the deep, As foam on the crest of the sea, As dreams at the waking of sleep, As gourd of a day and a night. As harvest that no man shall reap, As vintage that never shall be, Is hope if it cling not aright, O my God, unto Thee. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON THE RHINE by WILLIAM LISLE BOWLES ECHOES: 35. MARGARITAE SORORI by WILLIAM ERNEST HENLEY MY BIRD by EMILY CHUBBUCK JUDSON THE GLOW-WORM by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH THE SONNET by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH A SONG ABOUT SINGING by ANNE REEVE ALDRICH |