THEY cannot know, the keen of sight, The lovely things I see. I praise the Lord both day and night That He remembers me. I see the tree in its new leaf, A burning bush of green; Green beyond wonder and belief Its soft and silken sheen. I cannot see the birds in boughs, But an enchanted choir Sings all day long in a hid house Of emerald, flame and fire. I cannot tell where hills leave off And where the clouds begin: Such mountains, Alp on Alp, above, No eye hath ever seen. Pink blossom on the apple-branch For me's a rosy bower— The cherry tree an avalanche Of snow-white flower on flower. My distant candle's misted round With gold and glittering air, An angel with a glory crowned Upon the heavenly stair. I miss the common and the dull, The small details of things, And only keep the beautiful, The stars, the flowers, the wings. I see the faces that are dear, The others they may pass. I thank my God I see not clear, But dim, as in a glass. Yea, though the world should slip from sight, And I no more should see, I'll praise my God both day and night That He remembers me. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DOMESDAY BOOK: ALMA BELL TO THE CORONER by EDGAR LEE MASTERS HERITAGE by GWENDOLYN B. BENNETT THE OLD SHIPS by JAMES ELROY FLECKER IN SICKNESS (1714) by JONATHAN SWIFT NATIONAL ODE; INDEPENDENCE SQUARE, PHILADELPHIA by BAYARD TAYLOR OF A FAIR LADY PLAYING WITH A SNAKE by EDMUND WALLER |