When dews of dusk are falling,
Or daylight's draperies draw.
(Give me them, and the peace of mind—)
Give me these things then back, though the giving
Be at cost of earth's garner of gold;
There is no life without these worth living,
No treasure where these are not told.
For the heart give the hope that it knows not,
Give the balm for the burn of the breast—
For the soul and the mind that repose not,