Night and Death

Now the sunlit hours are o’er,
Rise up from thy shadowy shore,
Happy Night, whom Chaos bore.

Better is the peaceful treasure
Of thy musings without measure
Than the day’s unquiet pleasure.

Bring the holy moon; so pale
She herself seems but a veil
For the sun, where no clouds sail.

Bring the stars, thy progeny;
Each a little lamp on high
To light up an azure sky.

Sounds incomprehensible
In the shining planets dwell
Of thy sister Queen to tell.

Of that sister Nature saith
She hath power o’er life and breath;
And her name is written Death.

She is fairer far than thou;
Grief her head can never bow,
Joy is stamped upon her brow.

She is full of gentleness,
And of faith and hope; distress
Finds in her forgetfulness.

In her arms who lieth down
Never more is seen to frown,
Though he wore a thorny crown.

Whoso sigheth in unrest,
If his head lean on her breast
Witnesseth she is the best.

All the riches of the earth,
Weighed by her, are nothing worth:
She is the eternal birth.

In her treasure-house are found
Stored abundantly around
Almsdeeds done without a sound;

Long forbearance ; patient will;
Fortitude in midst of ill;
Hope, when even fear grew still;

Kindness given again for hate;
Hearts resigned though desolate;
Meekness, which is truly great;

Bitter tears of penitence;
Changeless love’s omnipotence:—
And nought lacketh recompense.

In her house no tainted thing
Winneth any entering;
There the poor have comforting.

There they wait a little time
Till the Angel-uttered chime
Sound the eternal matin-prime.

Then, upraised in joyfulness,
They shall know her, and confess
She is blessed and doth bless.

When earth’s fleeting day is flown,
All created things shall own,
Death is Life, and Death alone.