I Wake And Feel The Fell Of Dark

I wake and feel the fell of dark, not day.

What hours,

O what black hours we have

This night! what sights you, heart, saw; ways you went!

And more must, in yet longer light's delay.

With witness I speak this.

But where I

Hours I mean years, mean life.

And my

Is cries countless, cries like dead letters

To dearest him that lives alas! away.

I am gall,

I am heartburn.

God's most deep

Bitter would have me taste: my taste was me;

Bones built in me, flesh filled, blood brimmed the curse.

Selfyeast of spirit a dull dough sours.


The lost are like this, and their scourge to

As I am mine, their sweating selves, but worse.

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