Poem by Jones Very

Night

I thank thee, Father, that the night is near
When I this conscious being may resign;
Whose only task thy words of love to hear,
And in thy acts to find each act of mine;
A task too great to give a child like me,
The myriad-handed labors of the day,
Too many for my closing eyes to see,
Thy words too frequent for my tongue to say;
Yet when thou see'st me burthened by thy love,
Each other gift more lovely then appears,
For dark-robed night comes hovering from above,
And all thine other gifts to me endears;
And while within her darkened couch I sleep,
Thine eyes untired above will constant vigils keep.

1. Enoch
2. The Robin
3. The Grave Yard
4. The Dead
5. The New Birth

Ann Radcliffe Night ("Now Ev'ning fades! her pensive step retires")

Print

1404 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version