NIGHT.
The God of Day is speeding his way
Through the golden gates of the West;
The rosebud sleeps in the parting ray,
The bird is seeking its nest.
Through the golden gates of the West;
The rosebud sleeps in the parting ray,
The bird is seeking its nest.
I love the light-yet welcome, Night;
For beneath thy darkling fall,
The troubled breast is soothed in rest,
And the slave forgets his thrall.
For beneath thy darkling fall,
The troubled breast is soothed in rest,
And the slave forgets his thrall.
The peasant child, all strong and wild,
Is growing quiet and meek;
All fire is hid 'neath his heavy lid,
The lashes yearn to the cheek.
Is growing quiet and meek;
All fire is hid 'neath his heavy lid,
The lashes yearn to the cheek.
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