Soon, too soon—

Sleep will come when thou art fled;

Of neither would I ask the boon

I ask of thee, belovèd Night—

Swift be thine approaching flight,

Come soon, soon!

Percy Bysshe Shelley

[444]

LIGHT THE LAMPS UP, LAMPLIGHTER!

(For a Lamplighter, a Grandmother, the Angel Gabriel, and Any Number of Others)