 | Poems and Sonnets |  |
39
SACRA NOX.
O Night divine, bringer of dreams to mortals,What should we do without thee? when the day
Like some slow snake has dragged its length away,
With gentle hand thou closest eyelid portals,
And, fact shut out, sweet fiction works within,
And many a form to Beauty's Queen akin
Sweeps through the sleeper's brain, the weary din
Of daylight all forgotten, bliss that foretells
Reality of waking bliss to be,
Casting across the forehead of the sleeper
Soft lights and shades, as over summer sea
Flit clouds of colour, ever waxing deeper
As laughs by night a soul in light a weeper
Uprising strong the moon of ecstasy.
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