Sundown

By John Charles McNeill

Hills, wrapped in gray, standing along the west;
Clouds, dimly lighted, gathering slowly;
The star of peace at watch above the crest —
Oh, holy, holy, holy!

We know, O Lord, so little what is best;
Wingless, we move so lowly;
But in thy calm all-knowledge let us rest —
Oh, holy, holy, holy!

Dear Black Child - Grace Storm Ad

Dear Black Child - Grace Storm Ad x
Dear Black Child - Grace Storm Ad
LEVEL UP!
Drop your email and we'll send you 25 poetry editing guidelines to help transform your creative writing!
Send It!
LEVEL UP!
Drop your email and we'll send you 25 poetry editing guidelines to help transform your creative writing!
Send It!
Subscribe To: State Of The Arts Magazine
Privacy Policy: This information will never be shared with third parties.
Subscribe Now!
Subscribe To: State Of The Arts Magazine
Privacy Policy: This information will never be shared with third parties.
Subscribe Now!