Night, The

Hilaire Belloc

Most Holy Night, that still dost keep
The keys of all the doors of sleep,
To me when my tired eyelids close
    Give thou repose.

And let the far lament of them
That chaunt the dead days requiem
Make in my ears, who wakeful lie,
    Soft lullaby.

Let them that guard the horned Moon
By my bedside their memories croon.
So shall I have new dreams and blest
    In my brief rest.

Fold thy great wings about my face,
Hide day-dawn from my resting-place,
And cheat me with thy false delight,
    Most Holy Night.

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