The morning drum-call on my eager ear Thrills unforgotten yet; the morning dew Lies yet undried along my field of noon. But now I pause at whiles in what I do, And count the bell, and tremble lest I hear (My work untrimmed) the sunset gun too soon. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OLNEY HYMNS: 1. WALKING WITH GOD by WILLIAM COWPER CINQUAIN: NOVEMBER NIGHT by ADELAIDE CRAPSEY IRELAND by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR FORMERLY A SLAVE' (AN IDEALIZED PORTRAIT, BY E. VEDDER) by HERMAN MELVILLE EPITAPH ON FRANCIS CHARTRES by JOHN ARBUTHNOT PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 95, 96. AL-AZALI, AL-BAKI by EDWIN ARNOLD THE LITTLE ONES GREATNESS by JOSEPH BEAUMONT |