When the spent sun throws up its rays on cloud <br />And goes down burning into the gulf below, <br />No voice in nature is heard to cry aloud <br />At what has happened. Birds, at least must know <br />It is the change to darkness in the sky. <br />Murmuring something quiet in her breast, <br />One bird begins to close a faded eye; <br />Or overtaken too far from his nest, <br />Hurrying low above the grove, some waif <br />Swoops just in time to his remembered tree. <br />At most he thinks or twitters softly, 'Safe! <br />Now let the night be dark for all of me. <br />Let the night be too dark for me to see <br />Into the future. Let what will be, be.'<br /><br />Robert Lee Frost<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/acceptance-2/
