Poetry Archives

O weary night, O weary day,
When heart’s delight is far away!

What is the day? A frame of blue
The vacant-glaring sun grins through.
What is the night? A sable veil
Through which the moon peers tired and pale.

O weary day! O weary night!
How far away is heart’s delight!

Love hung the sun in his high place
To give me light to see her face,
And love spread out the veil of night
To hide us two from all men’s sight.

O kindly night, O pleasant day,
Your use is gone—why should ye stay?
My heart’s delight is far away,
O weary night, O weary day.