-late good night-
My lamp is out, my task is done,
And up the stair with lingering feet I climb.
The staircase clock strikes one.
My solitary room I gain.
A single star makes incomplete
The blackness of the window pane.
Dim and more dim its sparkle grows,
And ere my head the pillows meet,
My lids are fain themselves to close.
My lips no other words can say,
But still they murmur and repeat
To you, who slumber far away,
Good night, my love! Good night, my sweet!
Robert Fuller Murray
