Madison Cawein - Night lyrics

Lo! where the car of Day down slopes of flame On burnished axle quits the drowsy skies! And as his snorting steeds of glowing bra** Rush 'neath the earth, a glimmering dust of gold From their fierce hoofs o'er heaven's azure meads Rolls to yon star that burns beneath the moon. With solemn tread and holy-stoled, star-bound, The Night steps in, sad votaress, like a nun, To pace lone corridors of th' ebon-archéd sky. How sad! how beautiful! her raven locks Pale-filleted with stars that dance their sheen On her deep, holy eyes, and woo to sleep, Sleep or the easeful slumber of white d**h! How calm o'er this great water, in its flow Silent and vast, smoothes yon cold sister sphere, Her lucid chasteness feathering the wax-white foam! As o'er a troubled brow falls calm content: As clear-eyed chastity in this bleak world Tinges and softens all the darker dross. See, where the roses blow at the wood's edge In many a languid bloom, bowed to the moon And the dim river's lisp; sleep droops their lids With damask lashes trimmed and fragile rayed, Which the mad, frolic bee—rough paramour— So often kissed beneath th' enlivening sun. How cool the breezes touch the tired head With unseen fingers long and soft! and there From its white couch of thorn-tree blossoms sweet, Pillowed with one milk cluster, floating, swooning, Drops the low nocturne of a dreaming bird, Ave Maria, nun-like, slumb'ring sung. See, there the violet mound in many an eye, A deep-blue eye, meek, delicate, and sad, As Sorrow's own sad eyes, great with far dreams, When haltingly she bends o'er Lethe's waves Falt'ring to drink, and falt'ring still remains, The Night with feet of moon-tinged mist swept o'er Them now, but as she pa**ed she bent and kissed Each modest orb that selfless hung as tho' Thought-freighted low; then groped her train of jet Which billowing by did merely waft the sound Of a brief gust to each wild violet, To kiss each eye and laugh; then shed a tear Upon each downward face which nestled there. She weeping from her silent vigil turns, As some pale mother from her cradled child, Frail, sick, and wan, with kisses warm and songs Wooed to a peaceful ease and tranquil rest, When the rathe co*k crows to the graying East.