The Song of Night

“O night,And storm, and darkness! ye are wondrous strong,Yet lovely in your strength!” Byron.

I come to thee, O Earth!With all my gifts!--for every flower sweet dewIn bell, and urn, and chalice, to renewThe glory of its birth.

Not one which glimmering liesFar amidst folding hills, or forest leaves,But, through its veins of beauty, so receivesA spirit of fresh dyes.

I come with every star;Making thy streams, that on their noon-day track,Give but the moss, the reed, the lily back,Mirrors of worlds afar.

I come with peace,--I shedSleep through thy wood-walks, o’er the honey-bee,The lark’s triumphant voice, the fawn’s young glee,The hyacinth’s meek head.

On my own heart I layThe weary babe; and sealing with a breathIts eyes of love, send fairy dreams, beneathThe shadowing lids to play.

I come with mightier things!Who calls me silent? I have many tones--The dark skies thrill with low mysterious moans,Borne on my sweeping wings.

I waft them not aloneFrom the deep organ of the forest shades,Or buried streams, unheard amidst their gladesTill the bright day is done;

But in the human breastA thousand still small voices I awake,Strong, in their sweetness, from the soul to shakeThe mantle of its rest.

I bring them from the past:From true hearts broken, gentle spirits torn,From crush’d affections, which, though long o’erborne,Make their tones heard at last.

I bring them from the tomb:O’er the sad couch of late repentant loveThey pass--though low as murmurs of a dove--Like trumpets through the gloom.

I come with all my train:Who calls me lonely? Hosts around me tread,The intensely bright, the beautiful, the dead--Phantoms of heart and brain!

Looks from departed eyes,These are my lightnings!--fill’d with anguish vain,Or tenderness too piercing to sustain,They smite with agonies.

I, that with soft control,Shut the dim violet, hush the woodland song,I am the avenging one!--the arm’d, the strong--The searcher of the soul!

I, that shower dewy lightThrough slumbering leaves, bring storms--the tempest birthOf memory, thought, remorse! Be holy, Earth!I am the solemn Night!