Words at Midnight

Because the night is so still, Because there is no one about, Not the tiny squeak of a mouse over the carpet, Nor the slow beat of a clock at the top of the stairway, I am afraid of the night that is coming to me.

I know out there Some one is thinking of me, some one is wondering about me, Some one is needing me, some one is dying for my sake, Yet I remain alone.

I know that life is calling: I cannot resist it: Too much of myself I have given ever to turn away, I know that shame, sickness, death itself shall befall me, And I am afraid.

O night, hide me in your long cold arms: Let me sleep, but let me not live this life! There are too many people with haggard eyes standing before me Saying, "To live you must suffer even as we."

Yet life bitterly bids me: "Go on to the last, No matter the mud and the cold rain and the darkness: No matter the drear pilgrims in whose eyes you shall look for long, And see all suffering, madness, death and despair."

Because my heart is cramped in, Because I have suffered much, Because my hope is like a candle-flame quenched at midnight, Because I dare dream yet of joy, I can take my night and the life that is coming to me.