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Forcing a Dismembered Carcass to Speak

the winter sunset,  flaming beyond spires and chimneys  half-detached from this dull sphere, (witness the world  how worthy to be praised) opens great gates  to some forgotten year of elder splendours and  divine desires. (twilight and evening bell, and after that the dark. I smile, of course,  and go on drinking tea.) and silent answers  crept across the stars, there, in a dream-plagued childhood,  quite alone I used to go,  where night reigned  vague and black,  wandering companionless  among the stars  that have a different birth. after such knowledge, what forgiveness? the slaughter  never ends. how many deaths  shall serve to break at last this heritage  which wraps me  in the grey apparel of ghosts? I have been one acquainted with the night. bom do dee  bom do dee bom bom  bom ba do-dee. the white breast  of the sea-lark twitters  sweet.