 | Graffiti d'Italia |  |
349
NIGHT-WATCH.
[Dedicated to F. O. S.]
Night the mysterious, silent, solemn night,
Broods over all!
Time, sweeping onward to the infinite,
No sound lets fall.
We hear alone its heavy lifting breath
Of deep repose,
As turning slowly in its dream of death
The great earth goes.
Broods over all!
Time, sweeping onward to the infinite,
No sound lets fall.
We hear alone its heavy lifting breath
Of deep repose,
As turning slowly in its dream of death
The great earth goes.
Above, below, is silence! In the deep
Of the vast sky,
In the low hollows where the white mists heap
And shroud-like lie,
On the far plains where ghostlike in the shade
Dim olives dwell,
O'er slumbering city, forest, sea, is laid
Night's secret spell.
Of the vast sky,
In the low hollows where the white mists heap
And shroud-like lie,
350
Dim olives dwell,
O'er slumbering city, forest, sea, is laid
Night's secret spell.
Tranced in the silence of this mystery,
And awe intense
Of all that is, and was, and is to be,
Weighs on the sense;
And shapeless thoughts and disembodied dreams
That end in sighs,
Sad memories, longings vague, and vanished schemes,
Before me rise.
And awe intense
Of all that is, and was, and is to be,
Weighs on the sense;
And shapeless thoughts and disembodied dreams
That end in sighs,
Sad memories, longings vague, and vanished schemes,
Before me rise.
Cease, ye wild thoughts! In duty's narrow bound
Alone is peace!
Oh infinite sea! that plummet cannot sound,
In thy abyss
Of wild conjecture we but sink and drown.
The awful breath
That blows from out the future bears us down
To fear,—to death.
Alone is peace!
Oh infinite sea! that plummet cannot sound,
In thy abyss
Of wild conjecture we but sink and drown.
The awful breath
That blows from out the future bears us down
To fear,—to death.
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