Marching Men: War Verses/At Night

by Helena Jane Coleman

For works with similar titles, see At Night.

AT NIGHT.

 

BETWEEN the calling clamors of the day—
Those duties and distractions that implore
A woman's heart—the children's soft uproar,
Mercifully unconscious at their play—
And mine own arméd will, I keep at bay
The haunting fear that waits beside my door,
The furtive ghost that must forever more
Companion me upon the narrowing way;

But with the night—the night that used to be
Filled with such deep serenities of space—
Dim shapes of terror stretch their hands to me,
And dread forebodings lurk in every place;
I shrink from even the starlight lest I see
In its pale gleam a silent, upturned face.