Sun burns away the day, Night is born,
Wrapped in blankets of clouds, handsome lad.
Tell the stars that I am jealous of the moon,
For with the dying of each new day;
Crystal orb with swaddling of mist and light,
Nursemaid that she is-
She attends, O precious delight,
The infant Night!
Mar 28, 2015
Mar 28, 2015 at 12:23 AM UTC
Sun burns away the day, Night is born,
Wrapped in blankets of clouds, handsome lad.
Tell the stars that I am jealous of the moon,
For with the dying of each new day;
Crystal orb with swaddling of mist and light,
Nursemaid that she is-
She attends, O precious delight,
The infant Night!
This is an old poem of mine.
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