NIGHT
'TIS solemn darkness; the sublime of shade;Night, by no stars nor rising moon relieved;The awful blank of nothingness arrayed,O'er which my eyeballs roll in vain, deceived.Upward, around, and downward I explore,E'en to the frontiers of the ebon air,But cannot, though I strive, discover moreThan what seems one huge cavern of despair.Oh, Night, art thou so grim, when, black and bareOf moonbeams, and no cloudlets to adorn,Like a nude Ethiop 'twixt two houris fair,Thou stand'st between the evening and the morn?I took thee for an angel, but have wooedA cacodæmon in mine ignorant mood.
'TIS solemn darkness; the sublime of shade;Night, by no stars nor rising moon relieved;The awful blank of nothingness arrayed,O'er which my eyeballs roll in vain, deceived.Upward, around, and downward I explore,E'en to the frontiers of the ebon air,But cannot, though I strive, discover moreThan what seems one huge cavern of despair.Oh, Night, art thou so grim, when, black and bareOf moonbeams, and no cloudlets to adorn,Like a nude Ethiop 'twixt two houris fair,Thou stand'st between the evening and the morn?I took thee for an angel, but have wooedA cacodæmon in mine ignorant mood.
'TIS solemn darkness; the sublime of shade;Night, by no stars nor rising moon relieved;The awful blank of nothingness arrayed,O'er which my eyeballs roll in vain, deceived.Upward, around, and downward I explore,E'en to the frontiers of the ebon air,But cannot, though I strive, discover moreThan what seems one huge cavern of despair.Oh, Night, art thou so grim, when, black and bareOf moonbeams, and no cloudlets to adorn,Like a nude Ethiop 'twixt two houris fair,Thou stand'st between the evening and the morn?I took thee for an angel, but have wooedA cacodæmon in mine ignorant mood.
'TIS solemn darkness; the sublime of shade;
Night, by no stars nor rising moon relieved;
The awful blank of nothingness arrayed,
O'er which my eyeballs roll in vain, deceived.
Upward, around, and downward I explore,
E'en to the frontiers of the ebon air,
But cannot, though I strive, discover more
Than what seems one huge cavern of despair.
Oh, Night, art thou so grim, when, black and bare
Of moonbeams, and no cloudlets to adorn,
Like a nude Ethiop 'twixt two houris fair,
Thou stand'st between the evening and the morn?
I took thee for an angel, but have wooed
A cacodæmon in mine ignorant mood.