W NIGHT AND DAY HEN the golden day is done, Child and garden, flower and sun, Vanish all things mortal. As the blinding shadows fall Garden darkened, daisy shut, In the darkness houses shine, Till at last the day begins In the darkness shapes of things, These shall wake the yawning maid; And the morning broken. There my garden grows again Just as it was shut away, Every path and every plot, Where the dew reposes, "Up!" they cry, "the day is come We have beat the morning drum; |