DUSK wraps the village in its dim caress; <br />Each chimney's vapour, like a thin grey rod, <br />Mounting aloft through miles of quietness, <br />Pillars the skies of God. <br /> <br /> <br />Far up they break or seem to break their line, <br />Mingling their nebulous crests that bow and nod <br />Under the light of those fierce stars that shine <br />Out of the calm of God. <br /> <br /> <br />Only in clouds and dreams I felt those souls <br />In the abyss, each fire hid in its clod; <br />From which in clouds and dreams the spirit rolls <br />Into the vast of God.<br /><br />George William Russell<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/dusk-41/
