Practising The Anthem

A summer wind blows through the open porch,

And, ‘neath the rustling eaves,

A summer light of moonrise, calm and pale,

Shines through a vale of leaves.

The soft gusts bring a scent of summer flowers,

Fresh with the falling dew,

And round the doorway, glimmering white as snow,

The tender petals strew.

Clear through the silence, from a reedy pool

The curlew’s whistle thrills;

A lonely mopoke sorrowfully cries

From the far-folding hills.

O lovely night, and yet so sad and strange!

My fingers touch the key;

And down the empty church my Christmas song

Goes ringing, glad and free.

Each sweet note knocks at dreaming memory’s door,

And memory wakes in pain;

The spectral faces she had turn’d away

Come crowding in again.

The air seems full of music all around-

I know not what I hear,

The multitudinous echoes of the past,

Or these few voices near.

Ah me! the dim aisle vaguely widens out,

I see me stand therein;

A glory of grey sculpture takes the light

A winter morn brings in.

No more I smell the fragrant jessamine flowers

That flake a moonlit floor;

The rustling night-breeze and the open porch

I hear and see no more.

Great solemn windows, down a long, long nave

Their shadow’d rainbows fling;

Dark Purbeck shafts, with hoary capitals,

In carven archways spring.

And overhead the throbbing organ waves

Roll in one mighty sea,

Bearing the song the herald angels sang

Of Christ’s nativity.

Dear hands touch mine beneath the open book,

Sweet eyes look in my face,-

They smile, they melt in darkness; I am snatch’d

From my familiar place.

The summer night-wind blows upon my tears;

Its flowery scent is pain.

O cold, white day! O noble minster-when

May I come back again!

To hear the angels’ anthem shake the air,

Where never discord jars,-

The Christmas carols in the windy street,

Under the frosty stars;

The dream-like falling from the still, grey skies,

With falling flakes of snow,

Of mellow chimes from old cathedral bells,

Solemn and sweet and slow.

To hear loved footsteps beating time with mine

Along the churchyard path,-

To see that ring of faces once again

Drawn round the blazing hearth.

When may I come? O Lord, when may I go?

Nay, I must wait Thy will.

Give patience, Lord, and in Thine own best way

My hopes and prayers fulfil.

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Poems in English 

• How To Raise Money For Your High School Study Abroad Experience by Poetry In English
• Computer Cookies: Are They Good or Bad? by Poetry In English
• The Best Blues Songs Ever by Poetry In English
• The Effects of Chess on Leadership by Poetry In English
• Holiday & Travel Guide For Paphos, Cyprus by Poetry In English
• Will the SEZ Act Boost Exports? by Poetry In English
• Art Therapy and Loss by Poetry In English
• Fiction Tips – The Snare of Coincidence by Poetry In English
• Interview With Joseph D’Agnese, Author Of Jersey Heat by Poetry In English
• Top 5 Furniture Buying Tactics For the Best Purchase by Poetry In English
• Chinese Zodiac Signs by Poetry In English
• A Brief History of Special Education by Poetry In English
• Priorities of Life and Death by Poetry In English
• Goals – How to Get Everything You Want by Brian Tracy – Review by Poetry In English
• How to Increase Your Faith by Poetry In English
• Top Benefits of Wearing Peridot Birthstone by Poetry In English
• How to Locate, Hire, and Work With an Article Writer by Poetry In English
• Companies See Mobile Games Development As a Profitable Business Option by Poetry In English
• Empowering Women in Gambia by Poetry In English
• Is Hiring a Resume Writer Really Worth It? by Poetry In English

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