by Robert Crawford
The sun is set, and all the stars are come,
Stars I shall no more see; the air is still,
And my life waits the ruin so near now.
A little space, and I shall have done here.
Ah, God! twelve hours, twelve little hours, and, lo!
The air and these lips part, day becomes night,
Earth nothing, time a skeleton, and I
An angry ghost, or a tired phantom laid
With many others in oblivion.
Twelve hours, twelve little hours, and I shall have
A wondrous change - feel one fierce pang, and then
Fade off I know not where, or like a star
Shot fearfully from the zenith singe my way
Through chaos haply for some aeons till
I reach another air, a lower sky,
And maybe with a baleful influence
Burn in Pluto's reign.
Last updated January 14, 2019