THE day was wild with wind and rain, <br />One grey wrapped sky and sea and shore, <br />It seemed our marsh would never again <br />Wear the rich robes that once it wore. <br />The scattered farms looked sad and chill, <br />Their sheltering trees writhed all awry, <br />And waves of mist broke on the hill <br />Where once the great sea thundered by. <br /> <br /> <br />Then God remembered this His land, <br />This little land that is our own, <br />He caught the rain up in His hand, <br />He hid the winds behind His throne, <br />He soothed the fretful waves to rest, <br />He called the clouds to come away, <br />And, by blue pathways, to the west, <br />They went, like children tired of play. <br /> <br /> <br />And then God bade our marsh put on <br />Its holy vestment of fine gold; <br />From marge to marge the glory shone <br />On lichened farm and fence and fold; <br />In the gold sky that walled the west, <br />In each transfigured stone and tree, <br />The glory of God was manifest, <br />Plain for a little child to see!<br /><br />Edith Nesbit<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/at-evening-time-there-shall-be-light/
