Excerpt from In the Morning
In The Morning
Vita Nuova.
A Desert, treeless, boundless,
The low sun round and red,
Air stifling, moveless, soundless
And I alone with my dead.
Her head lay on my shoulder,
The crimson light ebbed fast,
Her face grew paler, colder -
The face of my own dead Past.
Then darkness, black and frightful,
Dropped from the eastern sky,
With never a star, but a night-full
Of horrors creeping by.
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