Night |
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I love the silent hour of night,
For blissful dreams may then arise,
Revealing to my charmed sight
What may not bless my waking eyes!
And then a voice may meet my ear
That death has silenced long ago;
And hope and rapture may appear
Instead of solitude and woe.
Cold in the grave for years has lain
The form it was my bliss to see,
And only dreams can bring again
The darling of my heart to me.
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For all the mysteries, engines, instruments, wherewith the world is filled, whichwe are able to frame and use to thy glory. For all the trades, variety of operations, cities, temples, streets, bridges, mariner'scompass, admirable picture, sculpture, writing, printing, songs and music; wherewiththe world is beautified and adorned.
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Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
James Whitcomb Riley
