The Old Gray Wall
Time out of mind I have stood Fronting the frost and the sun, That the dream of the world might endure, And the goodly will be done. Did the hand of the builder guess, As he laid me stone by stone, A heart in the granite lurked, Patient and fond as his own? Lovers have leaned on me Under the summer moon, And mowers laughed in my shade In the harvest heat at noon. Children roving the fields With early flowers in spring, Old men turning to look, When they heard a blue-bird sing, Have seen me a thousand times Standing here in the sun, Yet never a moment dreamed Whose likeness they gazed upon. Ah, when will ye understand, Mortals who strive and plod,— Who rests on this old gray wall Lays a hand on the shoulder of God!
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