Poems (Eckley)/To A. C. O.
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E giveth thee songs, dear Annie—
Songs in the folded night,
When darkness wraps the landscape,
And the stars withdraw their light—
He giveth songs to thee.
TO A. C. O."Who giveth songs in the night."—Job xxxv. 10.
E giveth thee songs, dear Annie—Songs in the folded night,
When darkness wraps the landscape,
And the stars withdraw their light—
He giveth songs to thee.
Not in the glare and hum of day,
Thou could'st not hear so well,
When the din of life's conflicting tongues,
On thine ear must rise and swell—
He giveth songs to thee.
Thou could'st not hear so well,
When the din of life's conflicting tongues,
On thine ear must rise and swell—
He giveth songs to thee.
When sick and weary, and even sleep
Cannot lull thee to forget
Those waves of grief that wreck'd youth's bark
On shoals of sad regret—
He giveth songs to thee.
Cannot lull thee to forget
Those waves of grief that wreck'd youth's bark
On shoals of sad regret—
He giveth songs to thee.
In the night He giveth thee songs,
He giveth thee music then,
Dost thou hear the heavenly voices,
That sing in thy chamber when
He giveth songs to thee?
He giveth thee music then,
Dost thou hear the heavenly voices,
That sing in thy chamber when
He giveth songs to thee?
Cans't thou see the angelic spirits
That float through thy chamber, Dear,
And bid thee forget thy sorrows,
And to their notes give ear,
When He giveth songs to thee?
That float through thy chamber, Dear,
And bid thee forget thy sorrows,
And to their notes give ear,
When He giveth songs to thee?