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Chapter VI

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Night, in utmost noon forlorn and strong, with heart athirst and
fasting,
Hungers here, barred up for ever, whence as one whom dreams affright
Day recoils before the low-browed lintel threatening doom and casting
Night.

All the reefs and islands, all the lawns and highlands, clothed with
light,
Laugh for love’s sake in their sleep outside: but here the night
speaks, blasting
Day with silent speech and scorn of all things known from depth to
height.

Lower than dive the thoughts of spirit-stricken fear in souls
forecasting
Hell, the deep void seems to yawn beyond fear’s reach, and higher than
sight
Rise the walls and roofs that compass it about with everlasting
Night.

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A Century of RoundelsChapter VI

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