Poems (Truesdell)/A Midnight Song

by Helen Truesdell

A MIDNIGHT SONG.

I am alone, 'tis midnight hour,
 And midnight breezes fan my brow:
How, with a deep and holy power,
 Are early memories gathering now!

Tell me, ye pale and tranquil stars,
 That in such placid beauty shine,
While anguish deep my spirit mars,
 Hold'st thou the lost and loved of mine?

Or art thou, like our own dark world,
 Redeemed by precious blood, set free?
From thy proud innocence been hurled?
 Didst nail thy Savior to a tree?

Of if thou art what first thou seemed,
 A heaven where all is bright and fair,
Where are those loving ones, who beamed
 In visioned loveliness while here?