Poem 1, by Francis William Bourdillon

The night has a thousand eyes,

And the day but one;

Yet the light of the bright world dies

With the dying sun.

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Alone in a night filled with stars which mayhap are no longer.  Our lives are like starlight, not real, we live alone, the walking undead.

The mind has a thousand eyes,

And the heart but one;

Yet the light of a whole life dies

When the love is gone.

 

 



Categories: Poetry, Uncategorized

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