Fields of Sleep

The winds come to me from the fields of sleep Where dreams are blown out of the shallow hills And I, in my solitude, do rejoice As I take my comfort within their voice Which visits me as the cool evening stills And is rinsed by raindrops that mildly weep. Gone is the rainbow and tincture of day Lost in the clouds as they swim in the air And I, in my quietness, drift afar By merely the light of a silver'd star Where only the souls of the sleeping dare Seek a place that is distant - far away. In the deepest of night, the dead of dark, When the silent shadows hide from the light For, shadows are secrets mellowed by age And, ages are timeless, robbed of their rage, And rage is bewildered, lost in the night Yet, still sighs its echo deafingly stark. Where is the morning to dazzle and glow ? Where are the sunbeams to fever the heart ? Yes! morning will come, as sure as the winds, When the grey of the dusk slowly rescinds And the fields of sleep will fleetly depart And the dreams of the hills aimlessly go.