OFTEN when the night is come, With its quiet group at home, While they broider, knit, or sew, Read, or chat in voices low, Suddenly you lift your eyes With an earnest look, and wise; But I cannot read their lore, -- Tell me less, or tell me more. Like a picture in a book, Pure and peaceful is your look, Quietly you walk your ways; Steadfast duty fills the days. Neither tears nor fierce delights, Feverish days nor tossing nights, Any troublous dreams confess, -- Tell me more, or tell me less. Swift the weeks are on the wing; Years are brief, and love a thing Blooming, fading, like a flower; Wake and seize the little hour. Give me welcome, or farewell; Quick! I wait! And who can tell What to-morrow may befall, -- Love me more, or not at all. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE UNFORGIVEN by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH EMBLEMS OF LOVE: 19. THE HEART, LOVE'S BUTT by PHILIP AYRES THE SECOND BROTHER; ACT 2, SCENE 1 by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES THE CHRISTENING by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN THE DEATH OF SCHILLER by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT THE LIGHT-BRINGER by WITTER BYNNER MASQUE AT THE MARRIAGE OF THE LORD HAYES: TO LORD AND LADY HAYES by THOMAS CAMPION |