Robert Kirkland Kernighan
The Gold Og God - Poem by Robert Kirkland Kernighan
The royal hill was calm and still
And the silent angels slept,
Till all alone to the golden throne
A wee, wee baby crept.
Ah ! its little feet were pink and sweet,
Its steps were all unsteady ;
Yet its little voice made heaven rejoice :
' Lo ! the golden wheat is ready !'
' The wheat is ready,' rang around
The steps of the golden throne ;
The angels all their scythes unbound
In a world that was all their own ;
And the beautiful baby crept along
With lips like a golden pod ;
The harvest was brief, yet it slept on a sheaf-
On the glorious gifts of God.
Look for a dollar and find it, please,
Down in the dusty street ;
Then look in the billowed and splendid seas
Where the sweet wind wipes the wheat.
There 's where the angels have come to-night :
There 's where the baby sings ;
And all 's afire with a spark of light
From a big Archangel's wings.
So the story is told by a baby wee
With a mouth like a golden pod
A sheaf is a splendid angel's knee
It sleeps in the lap of God.
East and west, and north and south,
Angel ! whither away ?
Will the beautiful autumn fill the mouth
Of the winter's hungered day ?
Yes, out of the field the promise wings
That the wee, wee babe is right :
The yellow harvest sobs and sings
As the white days take their flight.
So the baby lives without mishap,
And its lips like a ripened pod,
Are pursed in the rich and the yellow lap
Of the golden gift of God.
Comments about The Gold Og God by Robert Kirkland Kernighan
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You