Night And Sleep

How strange at night to wake
  And watch, while others sleep,
  Till sight and hearing ache
  For objects that may keep
  The awful inner sense
  Unroused, lest it should mark
  The life that haunts the emptiness
  And horror of the dark!
  How strange at night the bay
  Of dogs, how wild the note
  Of cocks that scream for day,
  In homesteads far remote;
  How strange and wild to hear
  The old and crumbling tower,
  Amid the darkness, suddenly
  Take tongue and speak the hour! 
  Albeit the love-sick brain
  Affects the dreary moon,
  Ill things alone refrain
  From life's nocturnal swoon:
  Men melancholy mad,
  Beasts ravenous and sly,
  The robber, and the murderer,
  Remorse, with lidless eye.
  The nightingale is gay,
  For she can vanquish night;
  Dreaming, she sings of day
  Notes that make darkness bright;
  But when the refluent gloom
  Saddens the gaps of song,
  Men charge on her the dolefulness,
  And call her crazed with wrong.