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C.D. Warner, et al., comp.  The Library of the World’s Best Literature.
An Anthology in Thirty Volumes.  1917.
 
Night
By Jones Very (1813–1880)
 
  I THANK thee, Father, that the night is near
    When I this conscious being may resign:
  Whose only task thy words of love to hear,
    And in thy acts to find each act of mine;
  A task too great to give a child like me,—        5
    The myriad-handed labors of the day
  Too many for my closing eyes to see,
    Thy words too frequent for my tongue to say:
  Yet when thou see’st me burthened by thy love,
    Each other gift more lovely then appears,        10
  For dark-robed Night comes hovering from above,
    And all thine other gifts to me endears;
  And while within her darkened couch I sleep,
Thine eyes untired above will constant vigils keep.
 
 
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