Nightfall.
O day, so sicklied o'er with night! O dreadful fruit of fallen dusk! A Circe orange, golden-bright, With horror 'neath its husk. And I, who gave the promise heed That made life's tempting surface fair, Have I not eaten to the seed Its ashes of despair! O silence of the drifted grass! And immemorial eloquence Of stars and winds and waves that pass! And God's indifference! Leave me alone with sleep that knows Not any thing that life may keep Not e'en the pulse that comes and goes In germs that climb and creep. Or if an aspiration pale Must quicken there, oh, let the spot Grow weeds! that dost may so prevail, Where spirit once could not!
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"O day, so sicklied o'er with night!..."
"Nightfall." is a quintessential example of Madison Julius Cawein's signature style... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...