Nightfall
A a d r i t S a r k a r G r a d e
The Night feels fresh, cold, the rimy, For the sun hath ceased for me. No flame doth glimmer, no stars remember, This world’s dead-breathed melody. The streets rot hushed, the alleys hollow, Not a single soul traipse free. The churchyard groans with timbers ancient, Chained to Death’s philosophy. The wind, a wraith with spectral laughter, Gnaws the stones where shadows be. And I, poor wretch, in darkness wander, An echo bound eternally. Yet lo! a gleam through storm-clouds breaking, A silver line dares pierce the shroud. Its beams fall soft on earth forgotten, And silence curbs, no longer proud. The streets awake, their shadows fleeing, The alleys stir with lantern song. Where once was Death, now Life is breathing, The Night admits it dreamt too long. Oh, Great Sun, arise, thy fires golden, Redeem the Earth from misery. What once was lost, returns unbroken, And myrtle, a king, crowns me to be.
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