Tag Archives: night

The darkness keeps its appointment.

home, poetry, , ,

LAMPS

Eight o’clock, no later
You light the lamps,

The big one by the large window,
The small one on your desk.

They are not to see by—
It’s still twilight out over the sand,

The scrub oaks and cranberries.
Even the small birds have not settled

For sleep yet, out of the reach
Of prowling foxes. No,

You light the lamps because
You are alone in your small house

And the wicks sputtering gold
Are like two visitors with good stories

They will tell slowly, in soft voices,
While the air outside turns quietly

A grainy and luminous blue.
You wish it would never change—

But of course the darkness keeps
Its appointment. Each evening,

An inscrutable presence, it has the final word
Outside every door.

-Mary Oliver

 

The moon dapples the apples.

beauty, poetry, , , , ,

MOONLIT APPLES

At the top of the house the apples are laid in rows,
And the skylight lets the moonlight in, and those
Apples are deep-sea apples of green. There goes
A cloud on the moon in the autumn night.

A mouse in the wainscot scratches, and scratches, and then
There is no sound at the top of the house of men
Or mice; and the cloud is blown, and the moon again
Dapples the apples with deep-sea light.

They are lying in rows there, under the gloomy beams;
On the sagging floor; they gather the silver streams
Out of the moon, those moonlit apples of dreams,
And quiet is the steep stair under.

In the corridors under there is nothing but sleep.
And stiller than ever on orchard boughs they keep
Tryst with the moon, and deep is the silence, deep
On moon-washed apples of wonder.

-John Drinkwater

 

Prayers of St. Basil — Night Seasons

church, prayer,

A PRAYER FOR THE NIGHT SEASONS

Lord, O Lord, who hast delivered us from every arrow that flieth by day, deliver us also from everything that walketh in darkness. Receive the lifting up of our hands as an evening sacrifice. Make us worthy to pass without blame through the course of the night, untempted by evil. And deliver us from all anxiety and cowardice that come to us from the devil. Grant compunction to our souls, and make our thoughts mindful of the trial at thy dread and righteous Judgment.

Nail down our flesh with the fear of thee, and mortify our earthly members, that in the stillness of sleep we may be enlightened by the vision of thy judgments. Take from us every unseemly fantasy and pernicious carnal desire. Raise us up at the hour of prayer, established in faith and advancing in thy commandments: through the grace and goodness of thine Only-begotten Son, with whom thou art blessed, together with thine all-holy, good, and life-giving Spirit, now and ever and unto ages of ages. Amen.

-St. Basil the Great

This is the last of the three sample prayers of St Basil that I’d planned to share,
from the book Orthodox Christian Prayers. Previous: First Hour and Sixth Hour.

We laugh unknowing.

poetry, prayer, , ,

EVENING SONG

The moon is risen, beaming,
The golden stars are gleaming
So brightly in the skies;
The hushed, black woods are dreaming,
The mists, like phantoms seeming,
From meadows magically rise.

How still the world reposes,
While twilight round it closes,
So peaceful and so fair!
A quiet room for sleeping,
Into oblivion steeping
The day’s distress and sober care.

Look at the moon so lonely!
One half is shining only,
Yet she is round and bright;
Thus oft we laugh unknowing
At things that are not showing,
That still are hidden from our sight.

We, with our proud endeavour,
Are poor vain sinners ever,
There’s little that we know.
Frail cobwebs we are spinning,
Our goal we are not winning,
But straying farther as we go.

God, make us see Thy glory,
Distrust things transitory,
Delight in nothing vain!
Lord, here on earth stand by us,
To make us glad and pious,
And artless children once again!

Grant that, without much grieving,
This world we may be leaving
In gentle death at last.
And then do not forsake us,
But into heaven take us,
Lord God, oh, hold us fast!

Lie down, my friends, reposing,
Your eyes in God’s name closing.
How cold the night-wind blew!
Oh God, Thine anger keeping,
Now grant us peaceful sleeping,
And our sick neighbour too.

-Matthias Claudius (1740 – 1815)