Stand here with me. The throngs dissolve away. The sunset fades. A single star grows bright. The moon as purely sheds her balm of light Through these cliff-corridors as on the bay Pure-spread beyond them. Sea-breeze murmurs say, Not all of time is pledged for gain, the night Means sleeping even here, and in despite Of gold and greed will dawn a Sabbath-day There is no peace like this, the deep repose Of citadels of haggard restlessness. Prairie and mountain-top and twilit snows Breathe of the benison of silence less Than these tired streets, dazed with the noise of men, When the calm darkness bids them rest again. |