INTO the night go one and all,
A poet sang (as a poet may);
Into the Night beyond recall,
He told how the dead had passed away.
Verily, it was a doleful lay,
A requiem rhyme with a sour refrain.
Sing we a cheerier song to-day-
Out from the Night they come again!
Wreath and hatchment and sable pall-
Death’s insignia-what are they
In sloughs of Despond to plunge us all,
Or hold for ever our hopes at bay?
We are formed of Ether as well as clay,
As good Sir Oliver tells us plain-
The stars that melt in the sun’s clear ray,
Out from the Night they come again.
Life sweeps on to a surging fall,
But over its foam the rainbows play,
And it flows, still flows, though the shock appal
The faint and faithless who mark its way.
Hear what the seers and the sages say,
In the ancient mode or the modern vein.
We may set their words to a roundelay:
” Out from the Night they come again.”
ENVOI
Prince, our fealty to Life we pay,
Death is dead and his ashen reign;
His shadow lingers but not for aye-
Out from the Night we come again.
(David Gow)
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Based on Topics: Life Poems, Night Poems, Death & Dying Poems, Literature Poems, Poets PoemsBased on Keywords: envoi, oliver, despond, sloughs, cheerier