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Hail! Bright fragile light,
Dimming now in dawning night.
How thy blood outflows the eclipse
As a prayer upon dying lips.

Shall my woes satiated be?
Once pleased, what flight
Will they take from me
Into the depths of night?

Free the dead in my tears
In the lonely, newborn years
That I see coming, as though
There shall be no end to woe.

Free the dead in my sigh,
Let me not join them when I die—
Let me in my despondence lonely be
For all the nights of eternity.

Free the dead in my bosom’s core.
Call them from the distant shore
That the hereafter may solely be
A haven for one as alone as me.

Hail! Fragile dark that doth rise
From out the burning, twilit skies.
O! How thy blood upon my shadow
Shews me wither my dying soul shall go.

O! Kiss me solitude, and the ache
Of this heart doomed to break.
Sweet agony of what is no more
Free the dead from Love’s lost war.

© 2021 Marten Hoyle