Verse > Anthologies > Andrew Macphail, ed. > The Book of Sorrow
Andrew Macphail, comp.  The Book of Sorrow.  1916.
II. Rest
Waiting for the Morning
By John Henry Newman (1801–1890)
    THEY are at rest:
We may not stir the heaven of their repose
With loud-voiced grief or passionate request,
    Or selfish plaint for those
Who in the mountain grots in Eden lie,        5
And hear the four-fold river, as it hurries by.
    They hear it sweep
In distance down the dark and savage vale;
But they at eddying pool or current deep
    Shall never more grow pale;        10
They hear, and meekly muse, as fain to know
How long untired, unspent, that giant stream shall flow.
    And soothing sounds
Blend with the neighbouring waters as they glide;
Posted along the haunted garden’s bounds        15
    Angelic forms abide,
Echoing, as words of watch, o’er lawn and grove,
The verses of that hymn which Seraphs chant above.

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