I feel the dim, descending cloak
upon my shoulders —
I dare not look —
It rests upon me, a shadow, blue,
Its starlets gleaming. . .
In crannies, nooks,
It creeps without a step or stride.
Its shadow falls on every side;
Escape is but to close the eyes. . .
But even then is darkness met!
Go farther, farther — further West,
For there in glory does She rest.
And only yet,
But for a moment; She carries on
Into the hazy blue beyond.
An endless circle, round and round,
To where the Western zephyr’s bound. . .
‘Tis destined for the throne room, bright,
Where Her brilliance meets His light —
And She, and all the world, bows down.


One Response

  1. Cool 🙂

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