Late, Tired

[rejectomorph]

The half moon gives the perfect amount of light. Soft-edged shadows collect shimmering pools that ripple in the night breezes. The pale sea of light laps the walls and pavements, rises to drown the dark world. The unreachable surface swims with stars.

Verse:

Inscription for a Graveyard

by Yvor Winters


When men are laid away,
Revolving seasons bring
New love, corrupting clay
And hearts dissevering.

Hearts that were once so fast,
Sickened with living blood,
Will rot to change at last.
The dead have hardihood.

Death is Eternity,
And all who come there stay,
For choice, now certainty,
No moment breaks away.

Amid this wilderness,
Dazed in a swarm of hours, --
Birds tangled numberless! --
Archaic Summer towers.

The dead are left alone --
Theirs the intenser cost.
You followed to a stone,
And there the trail was lost.

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