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A cloudless night like this

can set the spirit soaring;

after a tiring day

the clockwork spectacle

is impressive in a slightly

boring eighteenth-century

way.



Occuring this very night

by no established rule,

some event may already

have hurled

its first little NO at the

right

of the laws we accept

to school

our post-diluvian

world.



But the stars burn on

overhead,

unconscious of final

ends,

as I walk home to bed,

asking what judgement

awaits

my person, all my friends.

Make this night loveable,

moon, and with eye single

looking down from up there,

bless me, one especial

and friends everywhere.



With a cloudless brightness

surround our absenses;

innocent be our sleeps,

watched by great still spaces,

white hills, glittering deeps.



Parted by circumstance,

grant each your indulgence

that we may meet in dreams

for talk, for dallignce,

by warm hearth, by cool streams.



Shine lest tonight any,

in the dark suddenly,

wake alone in a bed

to hear his own fury

wishing his love were dead.