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night.
II.
Thou seem'st to solve the eternal unity
That holds us all. How far, and dim, and deep,
Bathed in the separate sanctity of sleep—
Lost in thy wide forgetting do we lie!
O, lest that dim abyss, where Memory
Beats her disabled wing, and hope is not,
Point to yet wilder deeps, unearth our thought
In thy far glances! Through the serene sky,
When Day from the impurpled hills furls up,
And heaven's white limits fail, the Infinite,
Long crushed within, breathes forth its mystic pain;
From vast of height, and depth, and silence, stoop,
And lift with mystic faith its brow again,—
Call unto peace the eternal child, dear Night!
That holds us all. How far, and dim, and deep,
Bathed in the separate sanctity of sleep—
Lost in thy wide forgetting do we lie!
O, lest that dim abyss, where Memory
Beats her disabled wing, and hope is not,
Point to yet wilder deeps, unearth our thought
In thy far glances! Through the serene sky,
When Day from the impurpled hills furls up,
And heaven's white limits fail, the Infinite,
Long crushed within, breathes forth its mystic pain;
From vast of height, and depth, and silence, stoop,
And lift with mystic faith its brow again,—
Call unto peace the eternal child, dear Night!
