Long, long the night; its hours crept slowly by

Long, long the night; its hours crept slowly by, Each burdened by the weary weight of years;— The soldier slept, but o’er the closing eye Of mortal life fell that deep gloom which wears The mask of death in Life’s dim vale of tears: He slept; but ere the Dawn in mantle gray, Who in the east her purple dome uprears Each morn, had brought to man another day, Cold in the embrace of death the soldier slept for aye.