O Night

How often on my feet of scorn I've trudged across the early morn And begged the sun hold back the day For sluggish hands that would delay To grasp the torch of duty's call And wake the house and spoil it all. Oh Night! whose trains my feet have sped O'er distant lands where none have tread And through the rapids of my thought Have plunged me in almost to naught, Then brought my back to quiver here In shelter of an unknown fear, Then filled my world with glistening gold- Those flickering scenes for words untold. Oh Night! Whose fingers slack the grasp On one who is unwilling cast Into a day of drudge to steep, Until you welcome back your sheep.