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274 ELIZABETH OAKES SMITH Come up unto the hills! The men of old, They of undaunted will, Grew jubilant of heart, and strong and bold, On the enduring hill,- Where come the soundings of the sea afar Borne inward to the ear, And nearer grow the moon, and midnight star, And God himself more near! NIGHT. "Some who had early mandates to depart, Yet are allowed to steal my path athwart."-Wordsworth. THRICE welcome, solemn, thoughtful Night, With the cool and shadowy wing; For visions, beautiful and bright, Thou dost to fancy bring- And then the mental eye I turn, Thy kingdom, soul, to view, For higher progress eager burn, And onward strength renew. I love thy dim, majestic car, With no moon lighting by, When still and hush'd is each pale star, And the heavens look deep and high- And o'er me seem thy wings to brood With a protecting love, And I nestle in thy solitude, Like a stricken, wearied dove. I bless thee for each hallow'd thought, Which thou, oh! Night, dost bring- Thy quiet, with high teachings fraught, While round me seems to ring ELIZABETH OAKES SMITH 275 The music of the better land, And gentle watch to keep The presence of a guardian hand Is round me while I sleep. And soothingly, oh! Night, dost thou Departed ones restore- I see each fair and peaceful brow With their loving looks once more, Alas, the loved and gentle ones, They pass from earth away, And pleasantly we hear their tones, When the midnight shadows play. We feel their holy presence near, Their gentle pressure feel, Their words of whisper'd comfort hear, And angel-like appeal; And every struggle for the right They smilingly approve, And arm us doubly for the fight, With spirit-faith and love. Oh! holy Night, thou bring'st to me Bright visions of the past, And pleasant dreams are born of thee, And from thy pinions cast No fancies dark, no terrors wild Come hovering round my bed. But peaceful as a wearied child I rest my aching head.
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Reopened for Editing 2023-06-29 10:32:35