FASTING
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’TIS
morning now, yet silently I stand,
Uplift the curtain with a weary hand,
Look out while darkness overspreads the way,
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And
long for day. |
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Calm peace is frighted with my mood to-night, |
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Nor
visits my dull chamber with her light,
To guide my senses into her sweet rest
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And
leave me blest. |
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Long hours since the city rocked and sung
Itself to slumber: only the stars swung
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| Aloft
their torches in the midnight skies |
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With
watchful eyes. |
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No sound awakes; I, even, breathe no sigh,
Nor hear a single footstep passing by;
Yet I am not alone, for now I feel
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A presence
steal [Page 59] |
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Within my chamber walls; I turn to see
The sweetest guest that courts humanity;
With subtle, slow enchantment draws she near,
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And
Sleep is here. |
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What care I for the olive branch of Peace?
Kind Sleep will bring a thrice-distilled release,
Nepenthes, that alone her mystic hand
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Can
understand. |
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And so she bends, this welcome sorceress, |
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To
crown my fasting with her light caress.
Ah, sure my pain will vanish at the bliss
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Of her
warm kiss. |
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But still my duty lies in self-denial;
I must refuse sweet Sleep, although the trial
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| Will
reawaken all my depth of pain. |
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So once
again |
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I lift the curtain with a weary hand,
With more than sorrow, silently I stand,
Look out while darkness overspreads the way,
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And
long for day. |
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“Go, Sleep,” I say, “before the
darkness die,
To one who needs you even more than I,
For I can bear my part alone, but he
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Has
need of thee. [Page 60] |
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“His poor tired eyes in vain have sought relief,
His heart more tired still, with all its grief;
His pain is deep, while mine is vague and dim,
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Go thou
to him. |
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“When thou hast fanned him with thy drowsy
wings, |
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And
laid thy lips upon the pulsing strings
That in his soul with fret and fever burn,
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To me
return.” |
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She goes. The air within the quiet street
Reverberates to the passing of her feet;
|
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| I
watch her take her passage through the gloom |
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To your
dear home. |
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Belovéd, would you knew how sweet to me
Is this denial, and how fervently
I pray that Sleep may lift you to her breast,
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And
give you rest— |
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A privilege that she alone can claim.
Would that my heart could comfort you the same,
But in the censer Sleep is swinging high,
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All
sorrows die. |
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She comes not back, yet all my miseries
Wane at the thought of your calm sleeping eyes—
Wane, as I hear the early matin bell
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The
dawn foretell. [Page 61] |
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And so, dear heart, still silently I stand, |
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Uplift
the curtain with a weary hand,
The long, long night has bitter been and lone,
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But
now ’tis gone. |
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Dawn lights her candles in the East once more,
And darkness flees her chariot before;
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| The
Lenten morning breaks with holy ray, |
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And
it is day! [Page 62] |
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