 | The poetical works of Edward Rowland Sill |  |
8
FAITH
The tree-top, high above the barren field,
Rising beyond the night's gray folds of mist,
Rests stirless where the upper air is sealed
To perfect silence, by the faint moon kiss'd.
But the low branches, drooping to the ground,
Sway to and fro, as sways funereal plume,
While from their restless depths low whispers sound:
“We fear, we fear the darkness and the gloom;
Dim forms beneath us pass and reappear,
And mournful tongues are menacing us here.”
Rising beyond the night's gray folds of mist,
Rests stirless where the upper air is sealed
To perfect silence, by the faint moon kiss'd.
But the low branches, drooping to the ground,
Sway to and fro, as sways funereal plume,
While from their restless depths low whispers sound:
“We fear, we fear the darkness and the gloom;
Dim forms beneath us pass and reappear,
And mournful tongues are menacing us here.”
Then from the topmost bough falls calm reply:
“Hush, hush! I see the coming of the morn;
Swiftly the silent Night is passing by,
And in her bosom rosy Dawn is borne.
'T is but your own dim shadows that ye see,
'T is but your own low moans that trouble ye.”
“Hush, hush! I see the coming of the morn;
Swiftly the silent Night is passing by,
And in her bosom rosy Dawn is borne.
'T is but your own dim shadows that ye see,
'T is but your own low moans that trouble ye.”
So Life stands, with a twilight world around;
Faith turned serenely to the steadfast sky,
Still answering the heart that sweeps the ground,
Sobbing in fear, and tossing restlessly—
“Hush, hush! The Dawn breaks o'er the Eastern sea,
'T is but thine own dim shadow troubling thee.”
Faith turned serenely to the steadfast sky,
Still answering the heart that sweeps the ground,
Sobbing in fear, and tossing restlessly—
“Hush, hush! The Dawn breaks o'er the Eastern sea,
'T is but thine own dim shadow troubling thee.”
| The poetical works of Edward Rowland Sill | |