Explore "Some Verses: Poems: THE DEAD NIGHT" by Helen Hay Whitney on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The strong brave Night is dead. Its endless deeps / Of patient tenderness, the moon-bright still / When every silver lake and purple hill / Hold wise unfathomed converse with the steeps / Of starry heaven, are past. All nature weeps / And draws the veiling grey of morning mist / Upon the lips that Night's last clouds have kist -- / The Night that watched so well the world who sleeps. / The Night is dead -- Alas -- and pallid Day / is but the corpse laid out in cold array, / The white sad emblem of the heart we knew. / Through half-closed lids the eyes shine palely blue; / The gleaming grave clothes cover all the rest. / So cruel still lies now the air's sweet breast / And trees and hills fold down calm hands and eyes, / That none may guess their secret mysteries.