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James Whitcomb Riley - In The Dark
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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.
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