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.
Aug 14, 2012
Aug 14, 2012 at 12:01 AM UTC
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.
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