Nightfall

Sweet after labour, soft and whispering night Blows on dark fields and fragrant country here: Here there is sleep, to weary limbs delight; The world is far away, the stars are near. The world is far away: but there, I know, Night comes to few unanxious, happy eyes; And cities, with their restless streets aglow, Lamps upon lamps, outface the enkindled skies. London lies there; an endless fiery maze, Thronged with her millions, sleepless, vast, alone; The stars are pale above her, where her gaze Lights the wide heavens and makes the night her own. There the hot wind blows over no dark fields: Brief, hard--won rest despotic labours give: Sleep, to how many spent--out spirits, yields Life's only sweetness, to forget they live!