In The Dark

O In the depths of midnight What fancies haunt the brain! When even the sigh of the sleeper Sounds like a sob of pain.

A sense of awe and of wonder I may never well define,-- For the thoughts that come in the shadows Never come in the shine.

The old clock down in the parlor Like a sleepless mourner grieves, And the seconds drip in the silence As the rain drips from the eaves.

And I think of the hands that signal The hours there in the gloom, And wonder what angel watchers Wait in the darkened room.

And I think of the smiling faces That used to watch and wait, Till the click of the clock was answered By the click of the opening gate.--

They are not there now in the evening-- Morning or noon--not there; Yet I know that they keep their vigil, And wait for me Somewhere.