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Dinah Maria Mulock - The Aurora On The Clyde
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AH me, how heavily the night comes down, 
Heavily, heavily: 
Fade the curved shores, the blue hills` serried throng, 
The darkening waves we oared in light and song: 
Joy melts from us as sunshine from the sky; 
And Patience with sad eye 
Takes up her staff and drops her withered crown. 
Our small boat heaves upon the heaving river, 
Wearily, wearily; 
The flickering shore-lights come and go by fits; 
Towering `twixt earth and heaven dusk silence sits, 
Death at her feet; above, infinity; 
Between, slow drifting by, 
Our tiny boat, like life, floats onward ever. 

Pale, mournful hour,--too early night that falls 
Drearily, drearily, 
Come not too soon! Return, return, bright day, 
Kind voices, smiles, blue mountains, sunny bay! 
In vain! Life`s dial cannot backward fly: 
The dark time comes. Low lie, 
And listen, soul. Oft in the night, God calls. 
* * * * * * 

Light, light on the black river! How it gleams, 
Solemnly, solemnly! 
Like troops of pale ghosts on their pensive march, 
Treading the far heavens in a luminous arch, 
Each after each: phantasms serene and high 
From that eternity 
Where all earth`s sharpest woes grow dim as dreams. 

Let us drink in the glory, full and whole, 
Silently, silently: 
Gaze, till it lulls all pain, all vain desires:-- 
See now, that radiant bow of pillared fires 
Spanning the hills like dawn, until they lie 
In soft tranquillity, 
And all night`s ghastly glooms asunder roll. 

Look, look again! the vision changes fast, 
Gloriously, gloriously: 
That was heaven`s gate with its illumined road, 
But this is heaven; the very throne of God 
Hung with flame curtains of celestial dye 
Waving perpetually, 
While to and fro innumerous angels haste. 

I see no more the stream, the boat that moves 
Mournfully, mournfully: 
And we who sit, poor prisoners of clay: 
It is not night, it is immortal day, 
Where the One Presence fills eternity, 
And each, His servant high, 
Forever praises and forever loves. 

O soul, forget the weight that drags thee down 
Deathfully, deathfully: 
Know thyself. As this glory wraps thee round, 
Let it melt off the chains that long have bound 
Thy strength. Stand free before thy God and cry-- 
"My Father, here am I: 
Give to me as thou wilt--first cross, then crown."
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