It Is Well.....

In moments of darker musings
Beneath a somber sky
Where thought embraces wordless groans
Too deep to dim the eye
I yearn for gracious slumber
To pluck the hurt away
But still the night is somber
Its slate is cold and gray

Then, in the pensive midnight
This cavern mute and cold
The would-be tomb of every dream
To tell me I am old
The echo of a whispered word
Breaks through this solemn spell
As by its memory I’m stirred
And hope weeps, it is well

Janet~