Part 4 — MIDNIGHT MASSES. NO. I.
Reading edition
Ho, watchman on the housetop!
Ho, minister of night!
From thine enclouded turret
Canst tell us of the light?
O! heavy is the darkness—
In heaven there is no star;
Canst see the wings of morning
Rise fluttering afar?
“I see four winged angels
Far in the Orient;
They bear a golden curtain
Across the firmament;
A blue and golden curtain,
Of richest tapestry;
And the world grows bright beneath it—
Morn cometh from the sea.”
“I see four other angels
Rise softly after them;
They bear a sable curtain,
Enwrought with many a gem;
With gems of gold and silver,
Of azure and of white;
And among them burneth Hesper—
Morn cometh and the night.”
Ho, poet, from thy tower!
How goes the tide of life;
The battle is it ended,
Has ceased the olden strife?
Thick mists are in the valley;
They cloud my narrow sight;
Canst tell us of the gloaming,
The making up of night?
The battle rages fiercely,
More fiercely it shall rage;
The world is clouded darkly,
Then comes a darker age;
I see four angels rising,
A sable shroud they bear;
Which rolling gathers darkness—
Night cometh from his lair.
But I see a knight advancing
With bright mail on his breast;
His lance is long and shining,
And he bows each sable crest;
And in the hands of angels
White flags of peace are borne;
I see the glad Aurora—
Night cometh and the morn.
ARTHUR ALLYN.