[Lines on finding a watchman sound asleep ... , in] James T. Fields biographical notes and personal sketches with unpublished fragments and tributes from men and women of letters |
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 | [Lines on finding a watchman sound asleep ... , in] James T. Fields |  |
“Il n'y a pour les âmes d'autre solitude que celle de l'oubli.”
258
LINES ON FINDING A WATCHMAN SOUND ASLEEP AT MIDNIGHT ON MY DOORSTEPS.
J. T. F.
How sleep the brave, who sink to rest,
By all the city-rascals blest!
When Night, with snowy fingers cold,
Returns to freeze the watery mould,
She there shall meet a sounder sod,
Than Fancy's feet have ever trod.
By all the city-rascals blest!
When Night, with snowy fingers cold,
Returns to freeze the watery mould,
She there shall meet a sounder sod,
Than Fancy's feet have ever trod.
By fire-y hands our knell is rung,
By forms unseen our locks are sprung;
There burglars come,—black, white, and gray,—
To bless the steps that wrap their clay:
While watchmen do awhile repair,
And dwell, like sleeping hermits, there.
By forms unseen our locks are sprung;
There burglars come,—black, white, and gray,—
To bless the steps that wrap their clay:
While watchmen do awhile repair,
And dwell, like sleeping hermits, there.
| [Lines on finding a watchman sound asleep ... , in] James T. Fields | |