  In the closing hours of night, When the latest guest has gone, By the hearth fire’s flickering light Sweet it is to dream alone. Sweet the social joy, and sweet Strife that ends in victory; Sweeter still the peace complete Following on the eager day. Then how sweet the lassitude, Revelling in romantic rest, Buoyed on dreams, whose mystic flood Draws the soul on happy quest. In the closing hours of life, When the friends of youth are gone, Ended lust of gain and strife, Peace approaches with the dawn. Sweet the rest and solitude When the hair is turning white, While the past, with broadening flood, Murmurs through the closing night. |
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