Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

BEFORE THE FROST, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: There's a little pause of waiting, in the time that / falls between
Last Line: Let us raise our psalms majestic, let us tell his praise abroad!
Alternate Author Name(s): Van Deth, Gerrit, Mrs.
Subject(s): Frost


THERE's a little pause of waiting, in the time that falls between
Nature's waking and her sleeping, ere the white hath hid the green,
Which of all the glad year's gladness hath the most of rare and fine,
Which of all the sad year's sadness pours elixir most divine.

For so blend our lights and shadows, like the crossing warp and woof,
That our bliss is edged with sorrow, and full oft our joy is proof
Only of some pain that, passing, leaves our spirit's life possessed
Of a sense of tranquil pleasure or the dear delight of rest.

In these days of quiet beauty, when the silver haze of morn
Like a mystic veil uplifteth and afar to space is borne,
Come the hours like radiant angels bringing gifts from One we love,
And the rapture of thanksgiving rises to His throne above.

Yet the tears o'erbrim the eyelids as we look from height to height,
Flooded with a wondrous splendor, bathed in waves of liquid light;
As we gaze o'er field and forest, where, unrolling rich and wide,
Glory still excelleth glory in a vast triumphal tide.

Not the sweet, shy charm of April, not the roseate grace of June,
Nor the lilied later summer sleeping in the August noon,
Have such power to stir our longings, have such memories dear and deep,
As this time when earth is hushing, like a child before its sleep.

Voices once that made our music, fill no more the lonely days;
Faces once that made our sunshine, beam no longer on our ways;
Hands which clasped our own so warmly, folded lie beneath the sod,
And above their strange quiescence, blooms and fades the golden rod.

Still our souls go forth undaunted, victors amid loss and strife;
And we gather consolation, in whatever stress of life,
From the thought that over yonder, where the immortal anthems swell,
There is utmost peace and safety, and with Christ the ransomed dwell.

In the morning-glories' twining, with their fragile trumpet shapes,
In the ecstatic thrill of color flushing o'er the ripened grapes,
Through the grand year's coronation, beats the loving heart of God;
Let us raise our psalms majestic, let us tell His praise abroad!





Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!


Other Poems of Interest...
Home: PoetryExplorer.net