Good-night! a word so often said,
The heedless mind forgets its meaning;
'Tis only when some heart lies dead
On which our own was leaning,
We hear in maddening music roll
That lost 'good-night' along the soul.
'Good-night'—in tones that never die
It peals along the quickening ear;
And tender gales of memory
For ever waft it near,
When stilled the voice—O crush of pain!—
That ne'er shall breathe 'good-night' again.
Good-night! it mocks us from the grave—
It overleaps that strange world's bound
From whence there flows no backward wave—
It calls from out the ground,
On every side, around, above,
'Good-night,' 'good-night,' to life and love!
Good-night! Oh, wherefore fades away
The light that lived in that dear word?
Why follows that good-night no day?
Why are our souls so stirred?
Oh, rather say, dull brain, once more,
'Good-night!'—thy time of toil is o'er!
Good-night!—Now cometh gentle sleep,
And tears that fall like welcome rain.
Good-night!—Oh, holy, blest, and deep,
The rest that follows pain.
How should we reach God's upper light
If life's long day had no 'good-night?'
O.