Nothing But the Night

Times Square at night

Now hollow fires burn out to black,
  And lights are guttering low:
Square your shoulders, lift your pack,
  And leave your friends and go.

Oh never fear, man, nought’s to dread,
  Look not to left nor right:
In all the endless road you tread
  There’s nothing but the night.

— A. E. Housman, “A Shropshire Lad”

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