Winter's Night

it is addressed thusly:
An ode.
it reads:
As our world turns her back upon
That lantern, our effulgent sun
And behind clouds and buildings lies
The moon a-crossing pinlit skies
And north rides the course of light
And long breathes the waiting night

And long it is, at any hour
A dark and foreboding tower
Shows it six, or twelve or five
And heat lives only in the alive
How many hours are then the same?
How long is winter's waiting game?

Stretching out like summer's days
In winter's nights before me lays
The city's sky, a sickly red
On cloud or clear the lights have bled
Bled out their last and fleeting breath
For now sleep is the sleep of death

And waking comes, dropping long
As the leaking faucet's tinny song
Droop, droop, droop, in cold refrain
Until the dead shall rise again
 And see and greet the morning rain
And turn in that quavering dove-gray light
The rain to snow, and gray to white.

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