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Oh, Night! when girded thus with starless gloom
Thou art a solemn teacher. Every breath,
That floats like music o'er thy echoing calm,
But deeper binds the spell which darkness wove,
And silence nurtured. Cold must be the heart,
That on thy shadowy stillness now could gaze,
Yet turn again, unsoftened and unmoved,
To mingle in the world without a sigh.
Thou art a solemn teacher. Every breath,
That floats like music o'er thy echoing calm,
But deeper binds the spell which darkness wove,
And silence nurtured. Cold must be the heart,
That on thy shadowy stillness now could gaze,
Yet turn again, unsoftened and unmoved,
To mingle in the world without a sigh.
E.
September 22, 1836.
