Night, like a dying mother,
Eyes her young offspring, Day.
The birds are dreamily piping.
And O, my love, my darling!
The night is life ebb’d away:
Away beyond our reach!
A sea that has cast us pale on the beach;
Weeds with the weeds and the pebbles
That hear the lone tamarisk rooted in sand
With the song of the sea to the land.
George Meredith was an English novelist and poet of the Victorian era. He was nominated for the Nobel Prize in Literature seven times.