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1871–1926

THE HOUSE OF NIGHT

Francis Sherman

Though all the light were lifted from the land, And a great darkness lay upon the sea; Though, groping each for some not-careless hand, I felt sad men pass over wearily;

Though it were certain dawn would not come in With the next hour; that after many days Would no moon rise where the grey clouds grew thin, Nor any stars resume their ancient ways:

Though all my world was thus, and I more blind Than the dead, blundering planets raining past, I know I should not fancy Time unkind; For you, as once of old you came, at last

Would surely come, and with unfaltering faith Lead me beyond the dominance of death.

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THE HOUSE OF NIGHT · Francis Sherman · Poetry Cove