The Hour Ye Know Not Poem by Annie Adams Fields

IN the still night,
Pallid with moonlight and unstirred by wind,
The noisy waves fell crashing on the sand,
Saying there will be rain.

But he who slept till day, and waked to find
The sheeted raindrops beating on the land,
Did loud complain
His disappointed hope.

Even thus we sleep,
Knowing the moment and the parting near;
We question not of happiness or pain,
Nor in the midnight do we wake to hear
The raindrops feeding earth's wide grassy slope!