Explore "The Fourth Day" by Francis Sherman on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
As when the tideless, barren waters lay / About the borders of the early earth; / And small, unopened buds dreamt not the worth / Of their incomparable gold array; / And tall young hemlocks were not set a-sway / By any wind; and orchards knew no mirth / At Autumn time, nor plenteousness from dearth; / And night and morning, then, were the first day, / -- Even so was I. Yet, as I slept last night, / My soul surged towards thy love's controlling power; / And, quickened now with the sun's splendid might, / Breaks into unimaginable flower, / Knowing thy soul knows this for beacon-light -- / The culmination of the harvest hour.