Evansville daily journal. (Evansville, Ind.) 1863-1866, 1865-04-21
Midnight

Darkness lends the weary Earth, not one
Il half so beautiful as that which comes
midway between the Dusk and dawn.
She breathes upon the Pianetfand It
sleeps; she draws her mystic curtain, |
and as much repose as Nature can en-
10y, falls sweetly ON the now too drowsy /
Day, which thus forgets its duties done
aud half believes the far Nirvana which |
the Brahmin dreams partially accom-
plished fact
In silent majesty she smiles on her de-
parted sister Of the Night, and glides in
graceful gDadness toward the Morn that
welcomes her with happy arms then
sheds thousand dewy tears upon the |
Earth from which she sadly parts aud
ceasingsto be of the Present sinks into
the Past.
Though always beautiful, ut times the
Midnight is magnificent A thousand
glories shine about her head, golden ST.
Ience greets the spheral music she alone
can sing. The carpets fairy looted
Spring spreads over bin and valley hush
her steps, and yet no football rustles in
the many.eolored leaves that Autumn
casts upon the chilly earth. She draws
in Winter warm though icy coverings
over babbling brooks, and in the Sum
mer cools with fragrant breath the cir
cumambient air. ETN
The sky, that azure desert of the Day,
she fills with GASES that gladden. all who
gaze upon their holy light as those that
on Sahara's sands shine like her stars,
make glad the wandering Arab, thirstiRg
for the rain that Allah will not send.
Beneath her tender influence the low
ing soul may find balm no other pres.
ence gives save that from which il parts
because she comes. 1t gazes at the
smiling stars, not half so bright as that
sweet pair Of saint-like eyes into whose
depths IL looked moment since; believes
the sky would be far finer If the Plead,
lost soiong, now newly found, were ad-
ded TO her sisters who are riding toward
the zenith by 0rion's splendid light, and
deems the atmosphere far sweeter for
the breath that came TO it from that half
budded rose whose parting lips it just
has kissed Good night ''sa, 6ev
a- Whatsdreamines follow how The fond
Imagination revels in the charms
which it creates and Fancy paints. Now
parting lovers walk on thrones and find
beyond brighter Paradise than thai
the Midnight bids them leave. s.A
Her sword is also made Of flames; ,bu
while it guards the golden fruit that boil
would eat, IT points across the desolation
OF the Day to happy hours that, EyeuinJ
has in store, and tells them of bette
bliss that waits future hour when Mid
night will not bid them part but max
them meet.
How tenderly the Midnight folds be
inky, starbespangled robe about thos
scenes the garish Day should never see
with what abondon she exposes what tn
sunlight hides. Love-lightsd eyes, with
in whose mystic depths is born an Aph
rodite fairer far than she who found
fable home upon the Cyprian shore, sen
chances such as MONDAY never knew
and ambushed Cupids, far more fon
than be who, by bis prayers, made hi
beloved immortal as himself, send sue
joy-bearing arrows through the soul a
make an Eden of the hour and causes
TO wish the7 Dawn were distant as III
fartheEt star. s
Thou art the paragon of Hours. o.
thy bewildering beauty all may gaze; i
thy unrivaled charms the World ma
nestle like babe, aud draw what in
SEPARATION Morrow needs from that repos
thy lavish hand bestows ~
We feel thy gentle breathing Will
we write, and know how soothingly ID
touch may fall upon hot, care fevere
@ brow; how tenderly thy influence steal
across a sad, World-weary soul. A thol
sand welcomes nightly greet thy con
ing; but u thousand thousand sigh
would follow thy departure If we did nc
know thou wilt return. fg
We kiss thy feet, OF sweet magic
the sombre Night, in gratitude, and fai
would bask in thy righteousness for ay'
Thy wand, whose spell is far more %
tent than the ofe Prpspero broke, hs
touched our drowsy eyes, and by i
magic aid we hope to bury in profouu,
est isleep the record of the Day jui
dead If thou hast foweret-iuice Xix
that Earth-girdling Puck on sIeepin
lovers eyelids poured, use also it an
wake us only when the high idea Of GU
soul in roseGte beauty waits for our ado
ing gaze. Good Might OincinnG
Gazette. "