At evening, the labor done, The frets departed with the sun, The long night reaching out before, I find in prayer an open door, And entering where none intrude, Rejoice in God's kind solitude. At morning, in the eager gray Aquiver with the coming day, Strong from the bath of calm repose To toil with friends or fight with foes, I pause upon the threshold there, And win a Helper with a prayer. At noon, amid the jostling crowd, The snarling clamor shrill and loud, Within the throng I find again That spot undesecrate of men, And on the ground by thousands trod Am blessedly alone with God! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE MOUNTAIN WHIPPOORWILL (A GEORGIA ROMANCE) by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET DOMESDAY BOOK: GREGORY WENNER by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |