Stilled is the wind . . . the water's drone . . .
Slumbers the trumpet's mellow tone.
While in the prison hallway sleeps
Hushed deathly silence and darkness creeps.
"Deep is the night—and dark the night.
A darker night awaits me still . . .
Away with thought"—and with all his might
He stills the thought against its will.
Deep, deathly silence.—From the wall
Each falling drop this peace defies
The sound of dripping drops of slime
Resounds throughout the prison walls,
As if it measured off night's time.
Resounds and dies—Resounds and dies—
Resounds—resounds—and dies in rhyme.
"How long the night! How long the night!
But a longer night awaits me still.
Away with thought" and with fear's own might
He stills the thought against its will.
Deep deathly silence.—Drops of slime,
Again, in falling, measure time.
"A darker night . . . for here at least
A moonbeam or some starlight creeps,
While there, but shadows hold their feast.
There ne'er a ray of sunlight sweeps,
Cold darkness lingers there.
There, all is one, no parts are shown—
All endless there—no time is known.
Night does not pass—day does not rise—
No time is known—no care—
There, seeds of hope are never sown.
25
