Israel Butt: "Nocturne"

The voice in the wind doesn’t whisper
As it knocks on the window pane,
And the trees are carved in confusion
In the shadow of night’s dark train

The clouds are drawn like curtains
At the end of some dark play;
Alas, some stars must early bow
When not the break of day

North Wind! North Wind! Whisper again
Why my heart seems often chilled,
Though warm my bones be by the fire
And my mug be ever filled?

O’ Luna, you lesser silver sun
Reflect and tell me plain,
When from rest your brother arise
Will I be still the same?

Or if in the night I find my name
Where I thought not ever to see
Then to lose my life in love
Like a ship on the stormy sea

To be lost, this life I live
Ah, to be rid my heavy chain
To die and yet to find my life
In You my greatest gain.