Birth of darkness! bloom of night!
Bringing me such rare delight;
Floating charm, thy rich perfume
Stirs the lagging, weary brain,
Hushes all the thoughts of gloom,
Soothes or dulls the pangs of pain.
This floral wonder, glistening white,
Scorning Day’s broad, glaring light,
In the sacred stillness now
Beams in beauty on my sight,
As the star on evening’s brow
Beams upon a moonless night.
Like a rainbow on the skies,
Looked for, yet a glad surprise—
Like a meteor’s flash and gleam
Crossing midnight’s sullen gloom,
Like the fairy forms of dream
Is this wondrous, starry bloom.
Tell me lovely, mystic flower,
Why you gem this gruesome hour?
Were the jasper gates ajar?
Did the Night, from angel’s crown,
Pluck for us its brightest star,
And cast the gleaming jewel down?
O, thou, pearly, radiant flower!
Why give Night such wealth of dower?
Why with anthers, dipped in gold,
’Round a carpel, rosy red,
Wait in darkness to unfold,
And thy queenly beauty spread?
Now a sentient presence seeming—
Ah! it whispers, or I’m dreaming:
“An evangel I’m to thee,
With this message from the Past;
How e’er full life’s joys may be,
Like my bloom they may not last.
Throngs are gone—the voices stilled
That once these halls with gladness filled;
Here, with thee, I stand alone
Where, before Night’s ebon throne,
Silence holy, waits to bear
From thy heart its inmost cry,
Wrought into such fervent prayer
As doth bring God’s presence nigh.”