| Hunt and Lee, comps. The Book of the Sonnet. 1867. | | | | II. Night | | By William Henry Cuyler Hosmer (1814–1877) |
| | | O NIGHT! I love thee as a weary child | |
| Loves the maternal breast on which it leans! | |
| Day hath its golden pomp, its bustling scenes; | |
| But richer gifts are thine: the turmoil wild | |
| Of a proud heart thy low, sad voice hath stilled, | 5 |
| Until its throb is gentler than the swell | |
| Of a light billow, and its chamber filled | |
| With cloudless light, with calm unspeakable: | |
| Thy hand a curtain lifteth, and I see | |
| One who first taught my heart with love to thrill, | 10 |
| Though long ago her lip of song grew still: | |
| A strange mysterious power belongs to thee, | |
| To morning, noon, and twilight-time unknown; | |
| For the dead gather round thy starry throne! | | | | |
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