 | Jones Very : The Complete Poems |  |
The Watcher
He comes at dead of night, when all asleepAre sunk in nature's most profound repose;
No eye can then its watchful vigil keep,
Nor hears there one, though loud HIS frequent blows;
I was a Watcher, whom the hours o'ercame,
And heavy slumber weighed my eyelids down;
A sleep like death oppressed my weary frame,
I fell, a traitor to my own renown;
Yet HE who called me, HE was faithful still;
I heard at length HIS knocking loud and long,
And hastened then my dying lamp to fill,
And ope the door with bolts and hinges strong;
That he who bid me wake might enter in,
And I anew with him the watch begin.
Poem No. 160a; late 1839?
| Jones Very : The Complete Poems | |