 | [Poems by Cary in] The poems of Alice and Phoebe Cary |  |
BOOK OF LIGHT.
Gentlest sister, I am weary—
Bring, oh, bring the Book of Light!
There are shadows dark and dreary
Settling on my heart to-night.
Bring, oh, bring the Book of Light!
There are shadows dark and dreary
Settling on my heart to-night.
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That alone can soothe my sadness,
That alone can dry my tears,
When I see no spot of gladness
Down the dusky vale of years.
That alone can dry my tears,
When I see no spot of gladness
Down the dusky vale of years.
Well I know that I inherit
All that sometimes makes me blest;
And in vain I ask my spirit
Why this feeling of unrest.
All that sometimes makes me blest;
And in vain I ask my spirit
Why this feeling of unrest.
But all day have been around me
Voices that would not be still,
And the twilight shades have found me
Shrinking from a nameless ill.
Voices that would not be still,
And the twilight shades have found me
Shrinking from a nameless ill.
Seeing not despair's swift lightning—
Hearing not the thunders roll,
Hands invisible are tightening
Bands of sorrow on my soul.
Hearing not the thunders roll,
Hands invisible are tightening
Bands of sorrow on my soul.
Out beneath the jewelled arches
Let us bivouac to-night,
And to soothe days' dusty marches
Bring, oh, bring the Book of Light!
Let us bivouac to-night,
And to soothe days' dusty marches
Bring, oh, bring the Book of Light!
| [Poems by Cary in] The poems of Alice and Phoebe Cary | |