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AWAKE.
All the night long, all the long night,
Exiled from sunshine and from sight,
Haunted with all the sounds of dread,
Darkness crowding on my head,
The wind that cries in soulless agony,
Or driving rain,
With quick light fingers rapping on the pane,
Or those fierce gales that flee
From the dark Northern sea,
Wild with the terror of their lonely flight,
Flinging their awful wings across the night
Till roof and rafter shake with fear,
And forests bend, and the dread oceans hear
And rise to battle, every hoary crest
Alive with light, the frantic gale to breast.
Exiled from sunshine and from sight,
Haunted with all the sounds of dread,
Darkness crowding on my head,
The wind that cries in soulless agony,
Or driving rain,
With quick light fingers rapping on the pane,
Or those fierce gales that flee
From the dark Northern sea,
Wild with the terror of their lonely flight,
Flinging their awful wings across the night
Till roof and rafter shake with fear,
And forests bend, and the dread oceans hear
And rise to battle, every hoary crest
Alive with light, the frantic gale to breast.
Or else my sad and frighted ear,
Quick the feeblest sound to hear
Knows each gliding step that steals
Up and down the creaking stair,
And silenced by a vague despair
The breath of ghostly presence feels.
Or in the wall a rustling stir
Hushed on a sudden; and the air
Thrills with conscious life, unseen,
Till my quick breath hardly dare
Gasp its sobbing utterance
Lest it break that awful trance
To some new horror.
Quick the feeblest sound to hear
Knows each gliding step that steals
Up and down the creaking stair,
And silenced by a vague despair
The breath of ghostly presence feels.
Or in the wall a rustling stir
Hushed on a sudden; and the air
Thrills with conscious life, unseen,
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Gasp its sobbing utterance
Lest it break that awful trance
To some new horror.
Then, outside, the fir
With crush and hiss of prickling icy boughs
Thorned with spears of dripping frost,
By midnight's angry breath is tossed
Against the overhanging eaves;
Or the weary south wind grieves
And all the old sad days arouse
To haunt me in my sleeplessness:
Rank upon rank, the armies of distress.
With crush and hiss of prickling icy boughs
Thorned with spears of dripping frost,
By midnight's angry breath is tossed
Against the overhanging eaves;
Or the weary south wind grieves
And all the old sad days arouse
To haunt me in my sleeplessness:
Rank upon rank, the armies of distress.
Then all the dead awake.
I hear their voices thin and far
Fainter than fading echoes are.
I see their faces turned from me,
As one their new eyes cannot see,
They know me not. Does death estrange?
Shall an alien with them range!
Oh ye beloved! I am living yet.
Ye dead, do ye forget?
Ah! my heart must dumbly ache
Torn with longing for your sake.
When will the horror of the darkness pass?
I hear their voices thin and far
Fainter than fading echoes are.
I see their faces turned from me,
As one their new eyes cannot see,
They know me not. Does death estrange?
Shall an alien with them range!
Oh ye beloved! I am living yet.
Ye dead, do ye forget?
Ah! my heart must dumbly ache
Torn with longing for your sake.
When will the horror of the darkness pass?
See! on its depths a stealing, misty ray,
Felt more than seen, a creeping shade of gray,
Softly through the window pane,
Calls my soul to life again.
Warm and warmer still it grows,
Streaked with saffron and with rose,
And the great sun, dawning slow
Bids the purple hillsides glow;
The light has come! the light, and life, and breath,
Oh God Thou art the light. Darkness is death.
Felt more than seen, a creeping shade of gray,
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Calls my soul to life again.
Warm and warmer still it grows,
Streaked with saffron and with rose,
And the great sun, dawning slow
Bids the purple hillsides glow;
The light has come! the light, and life, and breath,
Oh God Thou art the light. Darkness is death.
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