Night

I come, like Oblivion, to sweep away

The scattered beams from the car of day:

The gems which the evening has lavishly strown

Light up the lamps round my ebon throne.

Slowly I float through the realms of space,

Casting my mantle o'er Nature's face,

Weaving the stars in my raven hair,

As I sail through the shadowy fields of air.

All the wild fancies that thought can bring

Lie hid in the folds of my sable wing:

Terror is mine with his phrensied crew,

Fear with her cheek of marble hue,

And sorrow, that shuns the eye of day,

Pours out to me her plaintive lay.

I am the type of that awful gloom

Which involves the cradle and wraps the tomb;

Chilling the soul with its mystical sway;

Chasing the day-dreams of beauty away;

Till man views the banner by me unfurled,

As the awful veil of the unknown world;

The emblem of all he fears beneath

The solemn garb of the spoiler death!