O COME, soft rest of cares! come, Night! Come, naked Virtue's only tire, The reaped harvest of the light Bound up in sheaves of sacred fire. Love calls to war: Sighs his alarms, Lips his swords are, The field his arms. Come, Night, and lay thy velvet hand On glorious Day's outfacing face; And all thy crowned flames command For torches to our nuptial grace. Love calls to war: Sighs his alarms, Lips his swords are, The field his arms. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONATA IN PATHOS by CONRAD AIKEN SONG:SO WHY DOES THIS DEAD CARNATION by HAYDEN CARRUTH A SONG OF COURAGE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON STREET-CRIES: 2. THE SHIP OF EARTH by SIDNEY LANIER SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: AMOS SIBLEY by EDGAR LEE MASTERS HOMAGE TO SEXTUS PROPERTIUS: 11 by EZRA POUND |