In the hushed and reverent woodland Where the twilight shadows dwell All the birds are going to meeting, And the hermit rings the bell. "Co-o-ome, come to church this evening," So the little sexton sings; "Co-o-ome, come to prayer and praises," Through the woods the summon rings. Then another hermit answers From a belfry green and high; "Co-o-ome, yes, we'll come and gladly," Is the musical reply. Soon across the woodland spaces Other sextons ply their bells, Till the forest is a-quiver Deep in all its hidden dells. And the wistful mortal straying Underneath the brooding trees, Captured by the mood of worship, Sinks his soul on bended knees. Spoken words and ritual order? Stately spire and arched hall? Nay, the world is a cathedral When we hear the hermit's call. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE GUARDIAN OF THE RED DISK (SPOKEN BY A CITIZEN OF MALTA - 1300) by EMMA LAZARUS SURFACES AND MASKS; 2 by CLARENCE MAJOR THE AWAKENING RIVER by KATHERINE MANSFIELD SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: JOSEPH DIXON by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: OAKS TUTT by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SONG FOR THE FIRST OF THE MONTH by DOROTHY PARKER |