Be dark, night--
on rests the Swallow, the
vagabond, the worrier.

With darkly cauls and veils
of infancy, the blue-bloods
calling:

Mother of mercy, Mother
of grief.

and in greed, he follows,
a blind man wretched beneath
the sun and quiet in the night.

Be dark, night.
Be folded by the belly,
Be milk, warm-cast in life's
coldly arms--

for the transient, the reviler,
wander hand in hand
lonely by the light.