James Joyce



                   Nightpiece


                   Gaunt in gloom
                   The pale stars their torches
                   Enshrouded wave.
                   Ghostfires from heaven’s far verges faint illume
                   Arches on soaring arches,
                   Night’s sindark nave.

                   Seraphim
                   The lost hosts awaken
                   To service till
                   In moonless gloom each lapses, muted, dim
                   Raised when she has and shaken
                   Her thurible.

                   And long and loud
                   To night’s nave upsoaring
                   A starknell tolls
                   As the bleak incense surges, cloud on cloud,
                   Voidward from the adoring
                   Waste of souls.


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