Night and Moon

The desire of the moth for the star,

That orbèd maiden, with white fire laden,

If thou would’st view fair Melrose aright,

Come to me in the silence of the night;

Lo! thy dread empire, Chaos! is restored;

Ghastly, grim and ancient raven wandering from the Nightly shore—

Oft, in the stilly night,

The sun to me is dark

The evening star,

Sable-vested Night, eldest of things.

To perish rather, swallowed up and lost

A shout that tore hell’s concave, and beyond

And when night

So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed,

Hide me from day’s garish eye.

The shades of night were falling fast,

Between the dark and the daylight,

St Agnes’ Eve—Ah, bitter chill it was!

The heaventree of stars hung with humid nightblue fruit.

His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead.

Noche oscura.

Out of the dark we came, into the dark we go … Life is nothing. Life is all. It is the hand with which we hold off death. It is the glow-worm that shines in the night-time and is black in the morning; it is the white breath of the oxen in winter; it is the little shadow that runs across the grass and loses itself at sunset.

The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,

Über allen Gipfeln