A MIDNIGHT SUN.
FEARFUL of rivalry thou canst not be.
How should the pure, pale moon dispute the sun;
Or the innumerable company
Of scintillant stars, though banded all as one?
One glance of thy hot anger can dismay
The boldest planet till he fades and flees,
And hastes to bury his affrighted ray
In far, uncalculated distances.
Why linger then to rule the midnight sky,
Baffling celestial rule, and vexing men
Who watched thy sinking but an hour gone by
Only to see thee turn thy steps again?
The drowsy birds are drooping on the trees,
The cock’s faint crow but dimly prophesies;
The weary peasant slumbers ill at ease,
The east it flushes wanly, as in doubt;
Foams with unrest the roused and wrathful sea;
The scared moon peeped, then turned her round about,
And fled across the heavens at sight of thee.
Sovereign of day thou art by law divine,
None shall thy rulership or sway divide;
The dawning and the rosy morn are thine,
The busy afternoon and hot noontide.
But dusk of breezy twilight firefly-lit,
With chirp of drowsy bird and flash of dew,
And children clasping sleep while shunning it,
And midnight, with its deep, mysterious blue,—
These are the properties and appanage
Of sovereign Night, thy equal and thy foe;
And when she cometh and flings down her gage
And claims her kingdom, ’tis thy time to go.
And when in turn thou comest she must flee.
Each has a realm, and each must reign alone;
And not for her remains and not for thee
The sky it loves thee, but it loves the moon;
The world it needs thee, but it needs the night.
Blind us not, then, with thine inopportune,
Bewildering, and unexpected light.
Leave us to sleep, and duly take thy rest.
Vain is the plea; the king is on his way,
And, following his tossing golden crest,
Comes the long train of hours, and it is Day.