GOOD-NIGHT.

Good-night! a word so often said, The heedless mind forgets its meaning; 'Tis only when some heart lies dead On which our own was leaning, We hear in maddening music roll That lost 'good-night' along the soul. 'Good-night'—in tones that never die It peals along the quickening ear; And tender gales of memory For ever waft it near, When stilled the voice—O crush of pain!— That ne'er shall breathe 'good-night' again. Good-night! it mocks us from the grave— It overleaps that strange world's bound From whence there flows no backward wave— It calls from out the ground, On every side, around, above, 'Good-night,' 'good-night,' to life and love! Good-night! Oh, wherefore fades away The light that lived in that dear word? Why follows that good-night no day? Why are our souls so stirred? Oh, rather say, dull brain, once more, 'Good-night!'—thy time of toil is o'er! Good-night!—Now cometh gentle sleep, And tears that fall like welcome rain. Good-night!—Oh, holy, blest, and deep, The rest that follows pain. How should we reach God's upper light If life's long day had no 'good-night?'