Pillow and Stone

UPON a stone in olden time

A wanderer sank to rest.

A wondrous vision soothed his heart

How strangely was he blessed!

The arched sky was his coverlet,

The night-wind cradle song;

A ladder mounted heavenward

Which bore an angel throng.

Ah, in these sober days of ours

When we soft close our eyes,

No lofty ladder climbs above,

No angel hosts arise.

And tho our bed be richly draped

And royal fares our own,

For oft we waken unrefreshed—

The pillow’s changed to stone!