Returning, We Hear the Larks

Sombre the night is:And, though we have our lives, we knowWhat sinister threat lurks there.

Dragging these anguished limbs, we only knowThis poison-blasted track opens on our camp—On a little safe sleep.

But hark! Joy—joy—strange joy.Lo! Heights of night ringing with unseen larks:Music showering on our upturned listening faces.

Death could drop from the darkAs easily as song—But song only dropped,Like a blind man's dreams on the sandBy dangerous tides;Like a girl's dark hair, for she dreams no ruin lies there,Or her kisses where a serpent hides.