The silence is suffocating,
Swadling all within my sight.
The light outside is deprecating,
But I'm not ready for this night.
I recall the dream of midday,
When the sun embraced grass and stone,
And with gentle power, cast astray
Every disquiet which I had known.
I labored -- I worked ardently,
And which each effort, I saught to prolong
Those instances which adamantly
Passed like the sweetest song.
The afternoon brought a front,
And all rationale seized.
I took that shushing brunt
And found myself uneased.
The sun now sets,
And shadows are emboldened.
Every joy which day begets,
Is to night beholden.
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