 | The hours of the passion and other poems |  |
MIDNIGHT
O Lover, let me go!
This is the hour for sleep;
All tender things of earth
Lie folded soft and deep;
Worn out am I, and spent,
My heavy eyelids close,
Worse is this weariness
Than slave or captive knows;
Let me lie down and sleep,
And dream of things divine,
And in the morning wake and lift
A face refreshed to Thine;—
My face, Beloved, to Thine.
Let me go!
This is the hour for sleep;
All tender things of earth
Lie folded soft and deep;
3
My heavy eyelids close,
Worse is this weariness
Than slave or captive knows;
Let me lie down and sleep,
And dream of things divine,
And in the morning wake and lift
A face refreshed to Thine;—
My face, Beloved, to Thine.
Let me go!
I will not let thee go!
All others are asleep;
The hour is come, when thou
A watch with Me must keep.
What though the fainting heart
Break in unanswered cry;
What though the life-blood start
In drops of agony?
I will not let thee go!
All others are asleep;
The hour is come, when thou
A watch with Me must keep.
What though the fainting heart
Break in unanswered cry;
What though the life-blood start
In drops of agony?
I will not let thee go!
| The hours of the passion and other poems | |