Stedman and Hutchinson, comps. A Library of American Literature:
An Anthology in Eleven Volumes. 1891.
Vols. IX–XI: Literature of the Republic, Part IV., 1861–1889
Summer Night
By Milicent Washburn Shinn (18581940)T
Brims full with pallid light;
Moon-whitened all the grain-fields lie,
Like seas grown still with night;
And scattered houses, far and nigh,
Among their trees gleam white.
Oh, warmly does the night enfold
The earth, caressed with showers of gold.
And yet, not so, sweet night,
Not so I long for thee,
Not so come thou to me.
Alone in primal space,
Till I lie drowned beneath a sea
That upward from my face
Goes on and on unendingly,
Nor hints of time or place;
Till I might think that o’er my eyes,
Close-shut, the earth forever lies.
So longs my soul for thee.
Oh, so, I pray, sweet night,
So come thou unto me.