The Nights
OH , the Summer Night
Has a smile of light,
And she sits on a sapphire throne;
Whilst the sweet Winds load her
With garlands of odour,
From the bud to the rose o'er-blown!
But the Autumn Night
Has a piercing sight,
And a step both strong and free;
And a voice for wonder,
Like the wrath of the Thunder,
When he shouts to the stormy sea!
And the Winter Night
Is all cold and white.
And she singeth a song of pain;
Till the wild bee hummeth,
And warm spring cometh,
When she dies in a dream of rain!
Oh, the Night brings sleep
To the green woods deep;
To the bird of the woods its nest;
To Care soft hours;
To life new powers;
To the sick and the weary,—Rest!
Has a smile of light,
And she sits on a sapphire throne;
Whilst the sweet Winds load her
With garlands of odour,
From the bud to the rose o'er-blown!
But the Autumn Night
Has a piercing sight,
And a step both strong and free;
And a voice for wonder,
Like the wrath of the Thunder,
When he shouts to the stormy sea!
And the Winter Night
Is all cold and white.
And she singeth a song of pain;
Till the wild bee hummeth,
And warm spring cometh,
When she dies in a dream of rain!
Oh, the Night brings sleep
To the green woods deep;
To the bird of the woods its nest;
To Care soft hours;
To life new powers;
To the sick and the weary,—Rest!
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