_Literary Monthly_, 1910.
NOCTURNE
WILLARD ANSLEY GIBSON '08
Over the hills
Softly the slumber light
Seems to me creeping,
Stealing with twilight,
While the world sleeping
Breathes in the lower light
Prayers for its loved ones
Over the hills.
Stars watch, and the fire glows,
Fading it goes, fainter it glows,
Lips of vain speaking silently close--
The breath comes, but the breath goes.
Some mothers stifled lie,
Sobbing till life is gone;
Some fathers bitter die
In their remorse ere dawn;
Stars watch, and the fire glows--
Something comes, something goes.
Far in the night
Beckon the locust trees,
Whispering, calling,
And from their drooping leaves
White blossoms falling
Float on a magic breeze,
Far in a phantom world,
Far in the night.
Clocks chime and the night goes,
Slowly it goes, brighter it grows,
Tired hands folded rest in repose--
The breath comes, but the breath goes.
Some watchers on the hill
Wide-eyed await the dawn;
Some workers in the mill
Wearying are toiling on;
Clocks chime, and the night goes--
Slowly it lighter grows.
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