Classic Poem

Lying in the silent night,
I hear strange birds pass overhead,
Crying faintly in their flight;
Whence do they come? and where their home?
I know not; and they soon are fled.

Waking between dreams and dawn,
I hear a sudden wind draw by,
Shaking by the wooded lawn
Shrub and tree; and like a bee
Cradling in their shade to die.

Wondering then I hear a train,
First dim and far; soon loud and near,
Thundering through the quiet plain;
It stirs my soul to know its goal,
And who they are that travel there.

Heaven, pale with thousand beams,
A stranger, dearer secret keeps,
Even the little child of dreams,
So much my own, that now unknown,
Unborn, beneath my bosom sleeps.