Yet I Feel the Day in Night Has


A cool hand turns to touch the sun―
Each finger licks the fire with none,
And yet I feel the day in night has won.

What little strength in the heart of one―
In grief it may be moved again
As the cool hand turns to touch the sun.

Though it may be said that the hours are done,
And the dying sight to be left alone,
I'll pray―the day in night has won.

They are sad eyes that tear and run
And ages will pass before they are dry
To see the cool hand turn to touch the sun.

The turbid rush of fear has begun
And fallen to the ridges of the brain―
It says the day in night has won.

There is no triumph in a life undone,
Where oft the naked mark is drawn
As the cool hand turns to touch the sun,
Yet I feel the day in night has won.

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