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THE WATCHERS.
239
THE WATCHERS.
HEN the kind shadows dim the glaring light,And blessed Silence, with her watchful care,
Lays her soft fingers on the lip of Night,
They come,—the Watchers with the shining hair.
So leave me, gentle friend, until the day;—
The hush of twilight creeps along the air,
And when your careful steps have died away
Will come the Watchers with the shining hair.
The hush of twilight creeps along the air,
And when your careful steps have died away
Will come the Watchers with the shining hair.
Turn down the lamp-light in the mellow globes,
Dim, and yet dimmer, let its radiance be,—
Enough of light will scatter from the robes
Of those who wait to minister to me.
Dim, and yet dimmer, let its radiance be,—
Enough of light will scatter from the robes
Of those who wait to minister to me.
The household hum has faded into peace,
The last faint footfall dies along the stair,
And they are here, the peaceful Presences,—
The silent Watchers with the shining hair.
The last faint footfall dies along the stair,
And they are here, the peaceful Presences,—
The silent Watchers with the shining hair.
