At Noon--And Midnight

Far in the night, and yet no rest for him! The pillow next his own The wife's sweet face in slumber pressed--yet he awake--alone! alone! In vain he courted sleep;--one thought would ever in his heart arise,-- The harsh words that at noon had brought the teardrops to her eyes. Slowly on lifted arm he raised and listened. All was still as death; He touched her forehead as he gazed, and listened yet, with bated breath: Still silently, as though he prayed, his lips moved lightly as she slept-- For God was with him, and he laid his face with hers and wept.