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Night is the time to weep,To wet with unseen tearsThose graves of memory where sleepThe joys of other years.

James Montgomery

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James Montgomery
Age: 82 †
Born: 1771
Born: November 4
Died: 1854
Died: April 30
Poet
Irvine
Ayrshire
Memory
Joy
Memories
Night
Weep
Years
Wet
Time
Joys
Unseen
Graves

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Joys too exquisite to last, And yet more exquisite when past.
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While rose-buds scarcely show'd their hue, But coyly linger'd on the thorn.
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Time is eternity begun.
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Yet nightly pitch my moving tent, a day's march nearer home.
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Eagle of flowers! I see thee stand, And on the sun's noon-glory gaze With eye like his, thy lids expand, And fringe their disk with golden rays: Though fix'd on earth, in darkness rooted there, Light is thy element, thy dwelling air, Thy prospect heaven.
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Eternity: a moment standing still for ever.
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Gashed with honourable scars,Low in Glory's lap they lieThough they fell, they fell like stars,Streaming splendour through the sky.
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The Dove, on silver pinions, winged her peaceful way.
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