LIKE the slow thunder of long seas on the height <br />Where God has set no sea, <br />Voices of folded sheep in the quiet of night <br />Came on the wind to me. <br /> <br />Like the low murmur of full tide on a beach <br />Where tide shall never roll, <br />They sent their mournful, inarticulate speech <br />Heavily on my soul. <br /> <br />Past is my sorrow, the night past, and the morn <br />Bright on her golden sills. <br />Only the hill-fold voices drowsily scorn <br />The comfort of the hills.<br /><br />Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sheep-13/
