University of Virginia Library


68

MIDNIGHT THOUGHTS OF MORNING.

When I wake not to moon or stars,
Or soft-cheek'd pallor of night;
When my weary and baffled eyes
Feel after the restful light
And can find no relic of day,
No promise of morning beam;
When the raven robe of the night
Is woven without a seam,
Then I close up my dark-fill'd eyes
In their dark, and tears, and tire,
And paint them, on spirit skies,
The dawning of their desire.

69

Though the light of the eyes be gone,
The heart in the East may be;
For faith looketh further on
Into immortality.