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Poem by Madison Julius Cawein



The mornings raise
Voices of gold in the Almighty's praise;
The sunsets soar
In choral crimson from far shore to shore:
Each is a blast,
Reverberant, of color, seen as vast
Concussions, that the vocal firmament
In worship sounds o'er every continent.


Not for our ears
The cosmic music of the roiling spheres,
That sweeps the skies!
Music we hear, but only with our eyes.
For all too weak
Our mortal frames to bear the words these speak,
Those detonations that we name the dawn
And sunset hues Earth's harmony puts on.

Madison Julius Cawein

Madison Julius Cawein's other poems:
  1. Child and Father
  2. Lincoln
  3. Creole Serenade
  4. Pause
  5. Semper Idem

Poems of the other poets with the same name:

  • Jones Very Worship ("There is no worship now,Чthe idol stands")

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