Classic Poem

As the night steals in, I bless her,
Yet not now for rest alone;
I feel that she draws me closer
To some change I have not known.

But what does this glad subtraction
Of a day of life imply?
A happy change may be nearer,
But — some friend must the sooner die!

Impatient heart! that wouldst hasten
To meet what the years may bring;
Think what to-day has taken,
And fast to the morrow cling.