Page:The roamer and other poems (1920).djvu/84

 THE ROAMER

", the kindest helper of the soul,

Who, when night comes, dost draw more nigh than night,

And when thou goest, bringest back the day!

O first, sweet silence 'twixt the solemn prayers

Of eve and morn, how many peaceful hours

My hands in thine were folded, when a child!

And thou wast dearer with each heavy year,

And tenderer for the sorrow come, more soft

My head didst pillow, gavest my soul release!"

So rose the Roamer's morning orison;

And never more refreshed from thee he turned

To greet the golden East in summers gone,

Than when, dim Sleep, thou gavest his spirit back

To the dark border; trembling he awoke,

And dews of gratitude o'erflowed his eyes

For Sleep, the helper—kindest helper, thou!

Thou bearest half the weight of all men's lives;

The load thy hand unloosens at the end;

Not without thee was that far journey made. 74