The night is measureless, no voice, no cry, <br />Pierces the dark in which the planet swings -- <br />It is the shadow of her bulk that flings <br />So deep a gloom on the enormous sky; <br />This timorous dust, this phantom that is I, <br />Cowers in shelter, while the evening brings <br />A sense of mystery and how all things <br />Waver like water and are gliding by. <br />Now, while the stars in heaven like blowing sand <br />Drift to their darkness, while oblivion <br />Hushes the fire of some fading sun, <br />I turn the page again -- and there they stand, <br />Traced by love's fleeting but victorious hand, <br />The words: 'My darling, my beloved one.'<br /><br />John Hall Wheelock<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-letter-29/
