Tread Softly Thy Spirits Of The Night Poem by Helen Crutchett

Tread softly thy spirits of the night
Her sleeping doth still the blinking stars.
On blushed cheeks falls a lock of ebony hair,
Moonlight drifting on alabaster
Skin as smooth as cream.
Do not disturb her dreaming lest
Her visions perturbed, do interrupt
Thoughts of her lover gone
To battle to do battle.
Oh, how she prayers unceasing in daylight
Exhaustion taking upon her, sighing into
Satin pillows when nocturnal sleep is caste.
Where stillness overcomes and subdues
Restless dreams of this maiden fair
Awaiting her knight's return
From fields of blood
Shed for a kingdom's glory.
When the sun doth lights a dewy morning
Bid her rise to greet the day anew
With hope beating in her breast
Her gaze thro' open window into the garden
Of longing thus wondering this be the day
Of her beloved's return.

(c) Helen Crutchett