a Hymn, at the Dawn Hour

How long we wait, with minds as quiet as time,
like sentries on a tower.
How long we watch, by night, like the astronomers.

Heaven, when will we hear you sing,
arising from our grassing hills,

And say, "The dark is done, and Day
laughs like a Bridegroom in His tent, the lovely sun,
His tent the sun, His tent the smiling sky!"

How long we wait with minds as dim as ponds
while stars swim slowly homeward in the water of our west!
Heaven, when will we hear you sing?

How long we listened to the silence of our vineyards
and heard no bird stir in the rising barley.
The stars go home behind the shaggy trees.
Our minds are grey as rivers.
O earth, hen will you wake in the green wheat,
and all our cedars sing:
"Bright land, lift up your leafy gates!
Your abbey steeple, sing with bells!
For look, our Sun rejoices like a dancer
on the rim of our hills."

In the blue west the moon is uttered like the word:
"Farewell"


- from Thomas Merton