COME, blessèd Darkness, come, and bring thy balm
For eyes grown weary of the garish Day !
Come with thy soft, slow steps, thy garments gray,
Thy veiling shadows, bearing in thy palm The poppy-seeds of slumber, deep and calm !
Come with thy patient stars, whose far-off ray
Steals the hot fever of the soul away,
Thy stillness sweeter than a chanted psalm !
O blessèd Darkness, Day indeed is fair,
And Light is dear when summer days are long,
And one by one the harvesters go by ;
But so is rest sweet, and surcease from care,
And folded palms, and hush of evensong,
And all the unfathomed silence of the sky!
Julia C. R. Dorr.