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...READ THE SIGNS by CLARENCE MAJOR LUNCH AT A CLUB by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET CONTRA MORTEM: THE WHEEL OF BEING I by HAYDEN CARRUTH THE SAVING WAY by HAYDEN CARRUTH THE WRECK OF THE CIRCUS TRAIN by HAYDEN CARRUTH RESURRECTION UPDATE by JAMES GALVIN DELUSION by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON DOWN BY THE CARIB SEA: 6. SUNSET IN THE TROPICS by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON |