Bitter robs the night
of fortune.  (Send me to thee.)
Trick of my soul's tomorrow.

Bitterness resolves at death.
(Send me to thee.)
It robs the stars of light.

I am for sweetness.
This time it will not fail
me.  

Bitter is the crepuscular
time.  (Send me to thee.)
I choose the Sunlight.

The refrain of

time's repairing.



Caroline Shank