Viii

O kind protecting Darkness! as a child Flies back to bury in its mother’s lap His shame and his confusion, so to thee, O Mother Night, come I! within the folds Of thy dark robe hide thou me close; for I So long, so heedless, with external things Have played the liar, that whate’er I see, E’en these white glimmering curtains, yon bright stars, Which to the rest rain comfort down, for me Smiling those smiles, which I may not return, Or frowning frowns of fierce triumphant malice, As angry claimants or expectants sure Of that I promised and may not perform, Look me in the face! O hide me, Mother Night!

1841