Deep-bosomed night! Not here where down the marge Tremble on trembling blackness; nay, far hence, Lift thou the soul to spheres that gave her birth! NIGHT NIGHT is the time for rest; How sweet, when labors close, To gather round an aching breast The curtain of repose, Stretch the tired limbs, and lay the head Down on our own delightful bed! Night is the time for dreams; The gay romance of life, When truth that is, and truth that seems, Blend in fantastic strife; Ah! visions, less beguiling far Than waking dreams by daylight are! Night is the time for toil; To plough the classic field, Its wealthy furrows yield; Night is the time to weep; To wet with unseen tears Those graves of Memory, where sleep The joys of other years; Hopes, that were Angels at their birth, Night is the time to watch; O'er ocean's dark expanse, To hail the Pleiades, or catch The full moon's earliest glance, He Made the Night That brings into the homesick mind Night is the time for care; Brooding on hours misspent, Like Brutus, 'midst his slumbering host, Night is the time to think; When, from the eye, the soul Takes flight; and, on the utmost brink, Descries beyond the abyss of night The dawn of uncreated light. Night is the time to pray; Our Saviour oft withdrew Steal from the throng to haunts untrod, Night is the time for Death; When all around is peace, Calmly to yield the weary breath, From sin and suffering cease, Think of heaven's bliss, and give the sign 1285 To parting friends;-such death be mine! HE MADE THE NIGHT VAST Chaos, of eld, was God's dominion; He loved His darkness still, for it was old; And strewed it with the stars, and called it Night. HYMN TO THE NIGHT I HEARD the trailing garments of the Night I saw her sable skirts all fringed with light I felt her presence, by its spell of might, The calm, majestic presence of the Night, I heard the sounds of sorrow and delight, The manifold, soft chimes, That fill the haunted chambers of the Night, Like some old poet's rhymes. From the cool cisterns of the midnight air My spirit drank repose; The fountain of perpetual peace flows there,- O holy Night! from thee I learn to bear Thou layest thy finger on the lips of Care, Peace! Peace! Orestes-like I breathe this prayer! Descend with broad-winged flight,. The welcome, the thrice-prayed for, the most fair, The best-beloved Night! Henry Wadsworth Longfellow [1807-1882] Dawn and Dark 1287 DAWN AND DARK GOD with His million cares Back from a sphere He came Looked at our world; and the dark Grew dawn. Norman Gale [1862 THE CHANGING YEAR A SONG FOR THE SEASONS WHEN the merry lark doth gild With his song the summer hours, And their nests the swallows build In the roofs and tops of towers, And the golden broom-flower burns All about the waste, And the maiden May returns With a pretty haste, Then, how merry are the times! The Spring times! the Summer times! Now, from off the ashy stone The chilly midnight cricket crieth, And all merry birds are flown, And our dream of pleasure dieth; Now the once blue, laughing sky Saddens into gray, And the frozen rivers sigh, Pining all away! Now, how solemn are the times! Yet, be merry; all around Is through one vast change revolving; Even Night, who lately frowned, Is in paler dawn dissolving; Earth will burst her fetters strange, And in Spring grow free; All things in the world will change, Sing then, hopeful are all times! Bryan Waller Procter [1787-1874] |