Cast round me now your arms' cool wreath of white <br />Forget the day's far wakening, and lie <br />More close! Without, the weary world goes by, <br />Hawking its cheats and nostrums in the night <br /> <br />Be wise a-sudden, giving not a glance <br />To any anodyne its dupes prescribe <br />Art, lore, gold, fame and power, each tinsel bribe <br />That turns the flesh from its inheritance. <br /> <br />This is the only wealth, the only goal <br />Where one shall stand unhoodwinked for a space, <br />Gazing upon the Truth with tranquil face,— <br />Daring to show Life's pitfalls to the soul. <br /> <br />Take payment now for all accurséd hours, <br />All pain and waste and dreariness, all care! <br />These are the moments purchased by despair, <br />And this the joy to which thy sorrow flow'rs. <br /> <br />Wrench from the niggard Fates thy ransomed bliss! <br />Accept the breathless transports that atone, <br />With toils the gods were glad to find their own, <br />And seas of sense that thunder at a kiss.<br /><br />George Sterling<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/at-midnight-9/
