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<h3><SPAN name="NIGHT_THOUGHTS" id="NIGHT_THOUGHTS" />NIGHT THOUGHTS</h3>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span>"<i>Le notte e madre dipensien</i>."<br/></span></div>
<div class="stanza">
<span>I tumble and toss on my pillow,<br/></span>
<span class="i2">As a ship without rudder or spars<br/></span>
<span>Is tumbled and tossed on the billow,<br/></span>
<span class="i2">'Neath the glint and the glory of stars.<br/></span>
<span>'Tis midnight and moonlight, and slumber<br/></span>
<span class="i2">Has hushed every heart but my own;<br/></span>
<span>O why are these thoughts without number<br/></span>
<span class="i2">Sent to me by the man in the moon?<br/></span></div>
<div class="stanza">
<span>Thoughts of the Here and Hereafter,—<br/></span>
<span class="i2">Thoughts all unbidden to come,—<br/></span>
<span>Thoughts that are echoes of laughter—<br/></span>
<span class="i2">Thoughts that are ghosts from the tomb,—<br/></span>
<span>Thoughts that are sweet as wild honey,—<br/></span>
<span class="i2">Thoughts that are bitter as gall,—<br/></span>
<span>Thoughts to be coined into money,—<br/></span>
<span class="i2">Thoughts of no value at all.<br/></span></div>
<div class="stanza">
<span>Dreams that are tangled like wild-wood,<br/></span>
<span class="i2">A hint creeping in like a hare;<br/></span>
<span>Visions of innocent childhood,—<br/></span>
<span class="i2">Glimpses of pleasure and care;<br/></span>
<span>Brave thoughts that flash like a saber,—<br/></span>
<span class="i2">Cowards that crouch as they come,—<br/></span>
<span>Thoughts of sweet love and sweet labor<br/></span>
<span class="i2">In the fields at the old cottage-home.<br/></span></div>
<div class="stanza">
<span>Visions of maize and of meadow,<br/></span>
<span class="i2">Songs of the birds and the brooks,<br/></span>
<span>Glimpses of sunshine and shadow,<br/></span>
<span class="i2">Of hills and the vine-covered nooks;<br/></span>
<span>Dreams that were dreams of a lover,—<br/></span>
<span class="i2">A face like the blushing of morn,—<br/></span>
<span>Hum of bees and the sweet scent of clover<br/></span>
<span class="i2">And a bare-headed girl in the corn.<br/></span></div>
<div class="stanza">
<span>Hopes that went down in the battle,<br/></span>
<span class="i2">Apples that crumbled to dust,—<br/></span>
<span>Manna for rogues, and the rattle<br/></span>
<span class="i2">Of hail-storms that fall on the just.<br/></span>
<span>The "shoddy" that lolls in her chariot,—<br/></span>
<span class="i2">Maud Muller at work in the grass:<br/></span>
<span>Here a silver-bribed Judas Iscariot,—<br/></span>
<span class="i2">There—Leonidas dead in the pass.<br/></span></div>
<div class="stanza">
<span>Commingled the good and the evil;<br/></span>
<span class="i2">Sown together the wheat and the tares;<br/></span>
<span>In the heart of the wheat is the weevil;<br/></span>
<span class="i2">There is joy in the midst of our cares.<br/></span>
<span>The past,—shall we stop to regret it?<br/></span>
<span class="i2">What is,—shall we falter and fall?<br/></span>
<span>If the envious wrong thee, forget it;<br/></span>
<span class="i2">Let thy charity cover them all.<br/></span></div>
<div class="stanza">
<span>The cock hails the morn, and the rumble<br/></span>
<span class="i2">Of wheels is abroad in the streets,<br/></span>
<span>Still I tumble and mumble and grumble<br/></span>
<span class="i2">At the fleas in my ears and—the sheets;<br/></span>
<span>Mumble and grumble and tumble<br/></span>
<span class="i2">Till the buzz of the bees is no more;<br/></span>
<span>In a jumble I mumble and drumble<br/></span>
<span class="i2">And tumble off—into a snore.<br/></span></div>
</div>
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