EppsNet Archive: Night

Closed

The crimson dawn breaks through the clouded east, And waking breezes round the casement pipe; They blow the globes of dew from opening buds, And steal the odors of the sleeping flowers. The swallow calls its young ones from the eaves, To dart above their shadows on the lake, Till its long rollers redden in the sun, And bend the lances of the mirrored pines. Who knows the miracle that brings the morn? Still in my house I linger, though the night— The night that hides me from myself is gone. Light robes the world, but strips me bare again. I will not follow on the paths of day. I know the dregs within its crystal hours; The bearers of my cups have served me well; I drained them, and the bearers come no more. Rise, morning, rise, for those believing souls Who seek completion in day’s garish light. My… Read more →

Nothing But the 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” Read more →