Author Charles Leo O'Donnell When Light is dead, the busied Day Folds weary hands and glides away; While Night outspreads her starry hair Upon His grave, and worships there. Tags Short Poems Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments