Poems (Chitwood)/Night Musings

by Mary Louisa Chitwood

NIGHT MUSINGS.

The night is here, the gentle-bosomed night,
 With starry gems around her dusky hair;
Her azure eyes with soft and shadowy light
 Look deep into my heart—she seeth there
 Naught but the rocks of dead hope and despair.

Bird, bee, and breeze are lulled to quiet rest—
 Sleep broodeth o'er the eye-lids of the flowers;
Her soothing fingers on their brows are pressed—
 I sleepless sit and list the tinkling hours;
 With odorous breathings lean they to the bowers.

This day, my friend, too oft I wove for thee,
 In the thick woof of Thought the sparkling thread:
The sunny past should now as nothing be;
 Or, if remembered, as a flower that shed
 Its perfume to the winds and now lies dead.

All day I've mingled with the joyous throng—
 The mask of smiles has rested on my brow
Like pressing thorns, and yet I trilled the song;
 But it hath passed away and leaves me now
 As winter leaves the bird-forsaken bough.

All day through my heart's corridors has swept
 The ceaseless dirge that comes up from the past;
All day within my soul the sight has kept
 Of broken flower-wreaths scattered to the blast,
 Drifting adown oblivion's waters fast.