The Bird in the Night.

Once long ago, a summer night in June,

When earth lay still beneath a waning moon.

And never sound or rustle in the wood

Save the dull thunder of a far-off flood,

Hurling itself in ruin to the deep

O'er a great gulf, I lay and strove to sleep.

The stars were out; I watched with aching eye

Their slow grand march across a cloudless sky,

But rest came not; when suddenly I heard,

Far in the slumbering forest, one lone bird

Give three sweet calls, as if in pure delight

To fling its soul in music through the night!

Like a cool hand upon a fevered brow

Came that dear song; all fear had vanished now,

Steady my pulse, sunk in oblivion's arms

Forgetful as a child of past alarms.

Ye who have doubts — who is it has them not?

Ye who have fears, and troubled anxious thought,

When the storm lulls, will, if ye list aright,

Hear a bird singing in your darkest night.