Page:Harlem Shadows (1922).djvu/70



O whisper, O my soul! The afternoon

Is waning into evening, whisper soft!

Peace, O my rebel heart! for soon the moon

From out its misty veil will swing aloft!

Be patient, weary body; soon the night

Will wrap thee gently in her sable sheet,

And with a leaden sigh thou wilt invite

To rest thy tired hands and aching feet.

The wretched day was theirs, the night is mine;

Come tender sleep, and fold me to thy breast.

But what steals out the gray clouds red like wine?

O dawn! O dreaded dawn! O let me rest

Weary my veins, my brain, my life! Have pity!

No! Once again the harsh, the ugly city.