And art thou come again, oh Night;
I know thee by thy starry crown,
And by the mists of violet light
Which gather where thy robes fall down.
I know thee by the purple clouds
Thy strong wings spread around the moon,
And by the stillness which enshrouds
Thy presence, thou art come too soon.
Too soon, for lo thy fair love Sleep
Turns not her sweet face to the skies,
She lingers where the shadows creep,
And stays to kiss our children’s eyes.
But when her gentle hands have blest
Our homesteads, she will come to thee,
And through the holy hours of rest
Thine arms will hold her safe, and she
Will hear the promises again
Thou bringest from the distant spheres,
And learn the reason of our pain,
And meaning of our bitter tears.
Thine eyes are steadfast and I dare
Their mighty mystery to read,
But mine are dimmed by thought and care
And fail me in my greatest need.
I watch for thee, wilt thou not bring
One message to my fainting heart?
Through summer-time and snow and spring
I watch for thee. Must thou depart
Thus silently—when will it come,
That perfect day which we await?
For us thy lips are ever dumb,
And voiceless is thy calm estate,
Ah! tell thy fair love Sleep that she
May touch me when she passes by,
And whisper what she hears from thee
In some sweet lullaby.