The Day is Done

THE DAY is done and the darkness 
Falls from the wings of Night  
As a feather is wafted downward 
From an eagle in his flight.
 

I see the lights of the village 5 
Gleam through the rain and the mist  
And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me 
That my soul cannot resist: 

A feeling of sadness and longing  
That is not akin to pain 10 
And resembles sorrow only 
As the mist resembles the rain.
 

Come read to me some poem  
Some simple and heartfelt lay  
That shall soothe this restless feeling 15 
And banish the thoughts of day.
 

Not from the grand old masters  
Not from the bards sublime  
Whose distant footsteps echo 
Through the corridors of Time.
 20 

For like strains of martial music  
Their mighty thoughts suggest 
Life's endless toil and endeavor; 
And to-night I long for rest.
 

Read from some humbler poet 25 
Whose songs gushed from his heart  
As showers from the clouds of summer  
Or tears from the eyelids start; 

Who through long days of labor  
And nights devoid of ease 30 
Still heard in his soul the music 
Of wonderful melodies.
 

Such songs have power to quiet 
The restless pulse of care  
And come like the benediction 35 
That follows after prayer.
 

Then read from the treasured volume 
The poem of thy choice  
And lend to the rhyme of the poet 
The beauty of thy voice.
 40 

And the night shall be filled with music  
And the cares that infest the day  
Shall fold their tents like the Arabs  
And as silently steal away.

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