The winter
evening settles down With smell of
steaks in passageways Six o'clock. The burnt-out ends
of smoky days.
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And in a disused shed in Co. Wexford,Deep in the grounds of a burnt-out hotel,Among the bathtubs and the washbasinsA thousand mushrooms crowd to a keyhole.
derek mahonWe are caught in the coil of a God's romances —We come from old worlds and we go afar:I have missed you again in the Earth's wild chances —Now to another star!Perhaps we are led and our loves are fated,And our steps are counted one by one;Perhaps we shall meet and our souls be mated,After the burnt-out sun.For over the world a dim hope hovers,The hope at the heart of all our songs —That the banded stars are in league with lovers,And fight against their wrongs.
edwin markham