Here you will find the Poem Night-Bound. of poet Robert Crawford
Comes the night that brings me rest, Comes the dark that folds me in This of all my nights the best, Nights of virtue, nights of sin. I can hear a water moan, And it seems no mortal tide, But my own grey life that's gone With the darkness to abide. Ah! beyond the veil I pierce ? See my pain and pleasure done In a mouldering universe Without stars and without sun! Through my warm red veins the chill Of Death's coming seems to creep, Till the world grows ghasty still To me in my lonely sleep So I cease: this night is mine; Other nights for other things! Comes the gloom that is divine With the peace for me it brings.
