 | Morning Glories : |  |
NIGHT.
The shades of eve are quickly closing in,
And streaks of silver gild the eastern sky;
Belated songsters have their vespers sung
With happy hearts and silvery noted tongue,
The busy world has ceased its toil and din.
And guardian angels now their watch begin.
And streaks of silver gild the eastern sky;
Belated songsters have their vespers sung
With happy hearts and silvery noted tongue,
The busy world has ceased its toil and din.
And guardian angels now their watch begin.
All nature quiet save the sighing wind,
And distant murmur of the ocean wave,
Which seem engaged a requiem to sing
O'er blighted hopes and expectations grave.
The drooping heart its lonely vigil keeps,
Beside the tomb where proud ambition sleeps.
And distant murmur of the ocean wave,
Which seem engaged a requiem to sing
O'er blighted hopes and expectations grave.
The drooping heart its lonely vigil keeps,
Beside the tomb where proud ambition sleeps.
But memory bids defiance unto sleep,
And from her quiet chamber, see her creep,
Away she flies o'er hill, and dale and mead,
To find the Sacred City of the dead;
Faints not, nor stops to seek a rest,
Till pillowed on some loved and lost one's breast.
And from her quiet chamber, see her creep,
Away she flies o'er hill, and dale and mead,
To find the Sacred City of the dead;
Faints not, nor stops to seek a rest,
Till pillowed on some loved and lost one's breast.
| Morning Glories : | |