To the Night
SWIFTLY walk over the western wave,Spirit of Night!Out of the misty eastern caveWhere, all the long and lone daylight,Thou wovest dreams of joy and fearWhich make thee terrible and dear,—Swift be thy flight!
Wrap thy form in a mantle greyStar-inwrought;Blind with thine hair the eyes of Day,Kiss her until she be wearied out:Then wander o’er city and sea and land,Touching all with thine opiate wand—Come, long-sought!
When I arose and saw the dawn,I sighed for thee;When light rode high, and the dew was gone,And noon lay heavy on flower and tree,And the weary Day turned to his restLingering like an unloved guest,I sighed for thee.
Thy brother Death came, and criedWouldst thou me?Thy sweet child Sleep, the filmy-eyed,Murmured like a noon-tide bee,Shall I nestle near thy side?Wouldst thou me?—And I repliedNo, not thee!
Death will come when thou art dead,Soon, too soon—Sleep will come when thou art fled;Of neither would I ask the boonI ask of thee, beloved Night—Swift be thine approaching flight,Come soon, soon!