Book Description
Excerpt from Seven Sonnets and Ode to the Merry Moment Weet bells that call the simple hearts to God Soothe the harsh lips with gentleness of prayer, Devotion's prelude, who shall hear, or where, Bows his rude head, eyes humbles to the sod, Christ treads thy music lightly as He trod Stormier waves, and consecrates the air; The while a silver night is shutting there, And day's exhausted hours pause - and nod. Harvests may dull their sickles, famine blow Her hungry breath over a season crossed By summer ills: ever that sound is tossed On evening's breast, the Christian bows him low. Still is he waiting - waiting - even so She waits, in holy meditation lost. About the Publisher Forgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.com This book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art technology to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully; any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works.
