 | Poems |  |
On the approach of night.
VVhy comes forth night array'd in black, when dayDoes (like an exhalation) melt away?
Why hang so many lights i'th vault o'th skie?
As if night furnish'd out some obsequie?
Why are her tears in dewes so often shed?
The reason is, she mourns 'cause day is dead.
| Poems | |