Aug 122011
As in this post-dusk dark we talk and wander
Along a lonely path half-silver in the gloaming,
I notice all the glitter that we gather
Concentrates along the hard edge of the frost
The softening sky let drop, and lost,
And which shines tonight like a fallen ladder
Through confused woods,--and on, toward a sadder
Moon alone aloft who stays a stranger
No matter how deep or dark our ranging.

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