O In the depths of midnight What fancies haunt the brain! When even the sigh of the sleeper Sounds like a sob of pain. A sense of awe and of wonder I may never well define, -- For the thoughts that come in the shadows Never come in the shine. The old clock down in the parlor Like a sleepless mourner grieves, And the seconds drip in the silence As the rain drips from the eaves. And I think of the hands that signal The hours there in the gloom, And wonder what angel watchers Wait in the darkened room. And I think of the smiling faces That used to watch and wait, Till the click of the clock was answered By the click of the opening gate. -- They are not there now in the evening -- Morning or noon -- not there; Yet I know that they keep their vigil, And wait for me Somewhere. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: IMANUEL EHRENHARDT by EDGAR LEE MASTERS TOM O'ROUGHLEY by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS A THOUGHT SUGGESTED BY A VIEW, OF SADDLEBACK IN CUMBERLAND by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE NIGHT AND DAY by SIDNEY LANIER A WISH by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI |