Most Holy Night, that still dost keep
The keys of all the doors of sleep,
To me when my tired eyelids close
Give thou repose.
And let the far lament of them
That chaunt the dead day’s requiem
Make in my ears, who wakeful lie,
Soft lullaby.
Let them that guard the hornàed Moon
By my bedside their memories croon.
So shall I have new dreams and blest
In my brief rest.
Fold thy great wings about my face,
Hide day-dawn from my resting-place,
And cheat me with thy false delight,
Most Holy Night.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Cheat me with thy false delight Most holy night. Beautiful poem with deep meaning. Thanks for sharing it here.
Those last two lines make me think that the original must be a classical Latin poem of the Stoic school, looking forward to the true and abiding delight of death. Does anyone know such a poem?