TO THE NIGHT
PERCY BUSSHE SHELLY
Swiftly walk o’er the western wave,
Spirit of Night!
Out of the misty eastern cave,
Where all the long and lone day light,
Thou wovest dreams of joy and fear,
When make thee terrible and dear,-
Swift be thy flight!
Wrap thy from in a mantle gray,
Star-inwrought!
Blind with thine hair the eyes of Day;
Kiss her until she be wearied out
Then wander o’er city, and sea, and land,
Touching all with thine opiate wand-
Come, long-sought!
When I arose and saw the dawn,
I sighed for thee;
When light rode high and the dew was gone,
And noon lay heavy on flower and tree,
And the weary day turned to his rest,
Lingering like an unloved guest,
I sighed for thee.
Thy brother Death came and eried,
Wouldst thou me?
Thy sweet child sleep, the filmy-eved,
Murmured like a noontide bee,
Shall I nestle near thy side?
Wouldst thou me? – And I replied,
No, not thee!
Death will come when thou art dead,
Soon, too soon-
Sleep will come when thou art filed;
Of neither would I ask the boon
I ask of thee, beloved Night-
Swift be thine approaching flight,
Come soon, soon!
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