The Reincarnation of Darkness

 Dispel, O scarlet Dawn, the drapes of night!

Let shreds of crimson cloud allow to shed

upon the darkened indigo of the bed

of night the light of brilliant Eos. Bright

spots, lines brought to being by the yet

unrisen sun, the scorching flammifer,

make, like the burdock does for foxes’ fur,

to catch the day an all-ensnaring net.

 

Fret not that night’s death draws sleep to a close.

Although some busy hours of labor long

are heralded by rosy-fingered Dawn,

you need not daydream, nor in daylight doze:

for you shall sleep when, after Evensong,

again the navy drapes of night are drawn.

 

T. G. 9/4/21