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Show 24 Tim 1,un:n'l'Y nJ.:I.f,. All too long the watchers wait. Still tho stone is fixed ns fate. Send, great God, thy thunders down. Naught below can rend this stone. Over stonc~bound sprites I grope, Oft as now, and find no hope; And, dwelling mid these lonely glooms, Once I sat among tho tombs From the palo first glow of day To its latest drowning ray, In vain ; but when tho midnight thickened, Mine inner car tho darkness quickened, Till, choking down my he,.t's loud beat, I heard tho angels' Rtcalthy feet. They love to do their good, I ween, As God doth His, unheard, unseen. With glee suppressed I heard them como Whispering downward from their home ; And round me seemed tho stones to roll From many a gasping rising soul, l'£'l'UA j 011, A SO:'W OF TilE DES.ERT. And, after, many a, still small voice, 1'o bitl th' enfranchised ones rejoice. Thus, by Night and Silence tmincd, My sharpened sense tho skill hath gained 25 ~ro catch, -while through his sunshine bright Tramps shouting Noon, - their flutterings light i And in the statesman's protest, flung In the teeth of honored Wrong, In the prato of Infancy, In the preacher's homily, In Confession's faltering breath, In tho stifled moan of Death, Or tho solemn swell of prayer Stealing on the hallowed air, Where some sweet and saintly tongue Pleadcth for the listening throng, 'J.1hus I hear, f1·om day to day, Angels roll some stones away. C&mbriUgc, litiS!!, October, 1852. |