Lay Thou Thy quiet hand upon our eyes,
To close their sight;
Shut out the shining of the moon, and stars,
And candle-light.
Keep back the phantoms and the visions sad,—
The shades of grey,—
The fancies that so haunt the little hours
Before the day.
Quiet the time-worn questions that are all
Unanswered yet;
Take from the spent and troubled souls of us
Their vain regret;
And lead us far into Thy silent land,
That we may go,
Like children out across the field o' dreams,
Where poppies blow.
So all Thy saints—and all Thy sinners, too—
Wilt Thou not keep,
Since not alone unto Thy well-beloved
Thou givest sleep?
DREAMS
Keep thou thy dreams—though joy should pass thee by;
Hold to the rainbow beauty of thy thought;
It is for dreams that men will oft-times die,—
And count the passing pain of death as nought.
Keep thou thy dreams, though faith should faint and fail,
And time should loose thy fingers from the creeds;
The vision of the Christ will still avail,
To lead thee on to truth and tender deeds.
Keep thou thy dreams, through all the winter's cold;
When weeds are withered, and the garden grey,
Dream thou of roses with their hearts of gold;—
Beckon to summers that are on their way!