The End of The Day

In the waning deathpale daylight,
Convulsive Life runs, dances without reason,
Blatant and brawling, shrill with spite.
--As soon as over the horizon

Night, voluptuous and vast,
Arises, making hunger tame,
Hiding all things, even shame,
The Poet to himself: "At last!

My spirit and my jaded spine
Plead hungrily for rest. I'll go,
With dreams darkening my mind,

And lie full length upon my back,
O cooling curtains of deep shadow,
And roll and wrap me in your black."