ALL odors sweet of spice and balm, All breath of flower and vine, To-day have found their way, O Lord, To these fair fields of thine. The earth is radiant as a bride In broidered garments dressed; She wears thy glory like a gem Upon her happy breast. From cliff and dell a song goes up In every wind that blows; We hear it in the morning's joy, And in the night's repose. Each bird that pours his gladness out, Each moth that rustles by, Hath part within the strain of praise Clear thrilling to the sky. Lord, pardon us for little faith, Revive our drooping love; Still pardon us, if weak and faint The hymns we lift above. Within thy summer garden we Oft walk in winter's gloom. Oh, let the sun that warms the sod, Our shadowed souls illume. Then shall we bring forth fruit for thee,— We, joined to heavenly Vine; And still our grateful song shall be, That we, dear Lord, are thine. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...QUIET WORK; SONNET by MATTHEW ARNOLD THE DEATH OF GRANT by AMBROSE BIERCE EPISTLE TO WILLIAM SIMPSON OF OCHILTREE by ROBERT BURNS THEOCRITUS; A VILLANELLE by OSCAR WILDE THE BEACHCOMBER by MILDRED DOSCH BANTA ENVOI: DEATH (2) by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) |