CRIMSON as the rubies, crimson as the roses, Crimson as the sinking sun, Singing on his crimsoned bed each saint reposes, Fought his fight, his battle won; Till the rosy east the day of days discloses, All his work, save waiting, done. Far above the stars, while underneath the daisies, Resting, for his race is run, Unto Thee his heart each quiet saint upraises, God the Father, Spirit, Son; Unto Thee his heart, unto Thee his praises, O Lord God, the Three in One. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TWILIGHT SONG by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON GOING FOR WATER by ROBERT FROST AUTUMN WOODS by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT THE WILLIAM P. FRYE [FEBRUARY 28, 1915] by JEANNE ROBERT FOSTER CAELICA: 100 by FULKE GREVILLE SATIRES OF CIRCUMSTANCE: 1. AT TEA by THOMAS HARDY |