Poems (Jones)/Day and Night

by Amanda Theodosia Jones

For works with similar titles, see Day and Night.

DAY AND NIGHT.

NE eve my Margery and I
 Sat watching—blissfully alone—
The splendor creeping down the sky,
 The darkness climbing to its throne.

The sun was somewhere in the West;
 We knew it by the jets of light
That leaped against the evening's breast;
 But he was sunken out of sight.

And as we marked the gleams that gave
 To twilight transient hues of dawn,
The Night, that painter pale and grave,
 Brushed out the lines that Day had drawn.

On lake and landscape, cloud and sky,
 With violet shades blurred all the parts,
Until we felt—my love and I—
 An evening in our very hearts.

And so I said—her hand in mine,
 Her head against my shoulder laid—
"Wise Nature oft inscribes some sign,
 Which, to interpret, makes afraid.

"While sunlight, Margery, always fair,
 Is symbol sweet of what thou art;
This hour, that darkens all the air,
 Portrays my own sad counterpart.

"Day dies with the approach of night:
 Thus do I read the fateful sign;
Thy life, with its transcendant light,
 Will perish if 'tis linked with mine."

Straightway she answered, while a glance
 Of lustrous meaning lit her eye:
"The shades of life its lights enhance,
 And I, for love of thee, would die!

"Yet day dies not, but being drawn
 Beyond itself (so love is given)
Makes for the night a silver dawn,
 And gains—a twilight glimpse of heaven."