THOU art like Night, O sickness! deeply stilling Within my heart the world's disturbing sound, And the dim quiet of my chamber filling With low, sweet voices by Life's tumult drowned. Thou art like awful Night! thou gatherest round The things that are unseen -- though close they lie; And with a truth, clear, startling, and profound, Giv'st their dread presence to our mental eye. Thou art like starry, spiritual Night! High and immortal thoughts attend thy why, And revelations, which the common light Brings not, though wakening with its rosy ray All outward life: -- Be welcome, then, thy rod, Before whose touch my soul unfolds itself to God. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO HIS MISTRESS by ABRAHAM COWLEY WAR IS KIND: 21 by STEPHEN CRANE THE TUFT OF FLOWERS by ROBERT FROST UNDERWOODS: BOOK 1: 8. TO MINNIE (WITH A HAND-GLASS) by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON PATERNITY by WILLIAM ROSE BENET SONNETS FOR NEW YORK CITY: 2. A POLITICAL 'BOSS' by ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH |