Hark how the tremulous night-wind is passing in joy-laden sighs; <br />Soft through my window it comes, like the fanning of pinions angelic, <br /> Whispering to cease from myself, and look out on the infinite skies. <br /> <br />Out on the orb-studded night, and the crescent effulgence of Dian; <br /> Out on the far-gleaming star-dust that marks where the angels have trod; <br />Out on the gem-pointed Cross, and the glittering pomp of Orion, <br /> Flaming in measureless azure, the coronal jewels of God; <br /> <br />Luminous streams of delight in the silent immensity flowing, <br /> Journeying surgelessly on through impalpable ethers of peace. <br />How can I think of myself when infinitude o'er me is glowing, <br /> Glowing with tokens of love from the land where my sorrows shall cease? <br /> <br />Oh, summer-night of the South! Oh, sweet languor of zephyrs love-sighing! <br /> Oh, mighty circuit of shadowy solitude, holy and still! <br />Music scarce audible, echo-less harmony joyously dying, <br /> Dying in faint suspirations o'er meadow, and forest, and hill! <br /> <br />I must go forth and be part of it, part of the night and its gladness. <br /> But a few steps, and I pause on the marge of the shining lagoon. <br />Here then, at length, I have rest; and I lay down my burden of sadness, <br /> Kneeling alone 'neath the stars and the silvery arc of the moon.<br /><br />James Brunton Stephens<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/night-14/
