 | The poems of Trumbull Stickney |  |
165
[I
Listen! As though from other times and days]
Listen! As though from other times and days,Continuous and one and hard to know,
An hymn of human angels very low
Drifts o'er the ground and by the seashore stays
Ebbed in the lonely ripple. Hush, it strays
More near the time and being that are now,
And, as together with them soon to go,
Sings itself further on and on always.
And it will come to pass we also then,
In some more crimson twilight of our lives,
Suddenly in the choir nor knowing why,
Will have a voice within us: all we men
Between the time that gives and that deprives
Take up the theme and pass it, as we die.
| The poems of Trumbull Stickney | |