In The Dark.

O in the depths of midnight         What fancies haunt the brain!      When even the sigh of the sleeper         Sounds like a sob of pain.      A sense of awe and of wonder         I may never well define, -      For the thoughts that come in the shadows         Never come in the shine.      The old clock down in the parlor         Like a sleepless mourner grieves,      And the seconds drip in the silence         As the rain drips from the eaves.      And I think of the hands that signal         The hours there in the gloom,      And wonder what angel watchers         Wait in the darkened room.      And I think of the smiling faces         That used to watch and wait,      Till the click of the clock was answered         By the click of the opening gate. -      They are not there now in the evening -         Morning or noon - not there;      Yet I know that they keep their vigil,         And wait for me Somewhere.