July 1, 2014

Mark the herald of a dimming hour,
Its very stifling coming near,
The other gait of its approach,
Slouched in mocking supplication;
See how it wears a coat of sinister rose
Like a shaggy surrogate of its wonted pallor—
But I am sick beyond it all,
And will not turn aside, nor avert the embassy of any look!
Come invest me with your gross posture
And chant whispers of death in my scornful brain,
And show me your sleeves burdened of ash,
The large calamity of elemental decay;
Yet I know all your grimmest ordeal
And the smoldering end of all possibility—
So, enfold me in your tattered display,
And stagger onward darker off...

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