Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, MIDNIGHT THOUGHTS, by LUCY AIKEN



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MIDNIGHT THOUGHTS, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: Ye loud-howling tempests, fell roamers of night
Last Line: And quench my thanksgiving in tears.
Alternate Author Name(s): Aikin, Lucy
Subject(s): Night; Bedtime


YE loud-howling tempests, fell roamers of night,
O cease your intrusion, and leave me to rest!
I drink-in the terrors you waft in your flight,
And I feel a rude chill at my breast.

In fancy I stand on the surf-beaten shore;
I view the tost vessel that reels on the waves;
I hear the wild shriek and the groan -- but 'tis over;
It died 'mid the rocks and the caves.

Yet the slumber of infancy smiles at the blast:
Deep draw'st thou, young orphan, thy innocent breath;
Lulled even by the voice of the Spoiler that past
To whelm thy lost father in death.

I see the fierce storm sweep the snow on the moor;
It flies in dim eddies bewildering and chill;
Ah, traveller! thy death-bed's the wilderness hoar,
Thy tomb is the drift of the hill.

I hear the poor exile, forgotten, forlorn,
Who breathes from Siberia his famishing prayer;
And I shrink at the merciless blast of her morn,
That blights the cold home of despair.

O! never at my ease may I fancy a charm
In the voice of the tempest that beats not on me;
Never enliven my safety with scenes of alarm,
Composed by the rage of the sea!

No; be cheerless my musings, be broken my rest;
Let the outcry of nature sound sad in my ears:...
Such pitiless pleasure I chase from my breast,
And quench my thanksgiving in tears.






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