For all night long I dreamed of you : I woke and prayed against my will, Then slept to dream of you again. At length I rose and knelt and prayed : I cannot write the words I said, My words were slow, my tears were few; But through the dark my silence spoke Like thunder. When this morning broke, My face was pinched, my hair was gray, And frozen blood was on the sill Where stifling in my struggle I lay. If now you saw me you would say: When once the morning star shall rise, DOE UP-HILL. OES the road wind up-hill all the way? Will the day's journey take the whole long day? But is there for the night a resting-place? A roof for when the slow dark hours begin. May not the darkness hide it from my face? You cannot miss that inn. Shall i meet other wayfarers at night? Then must I knock, or call when just in sight? Shall I find comfort, travel-sore and weak? Will there be beds for me and all who seek? |