NIGHTFALL. 
 
THE seas that lap the sand 
Where lilies fill the land 
Are silent, while the moon ascends to span the 
curvéd leaves. 
The lordly stars arise 
With pity in their eyes 
So large and clear and wise, 
And angels yearn toward the world that wonders, 
wakes, and grieves. 
 
Sleep holds the hand of life, 
And, as a loving wife 
Moves not for fear the sufferer should wake before 
his hour, 
So sleep is deadly calm, 
And fills with perfect balm 
 
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