Songs From An Evil Wood

I.

There is no wrath in the stars,

They do not rage in the sky;

I look from the evil wood

And find myself wondering why.



Why do they not scream out

And grapple star against star,

Seeking for blood in the wood,

As all things round me are?



They do not glare like the sky

Or flash like the deeps of the wood;

But they shine softly on

In their sacred solitude.



To their happy haunts

Silence from us has flown,

She whom we loved of old

And know it now she is gone.



When will she come again

Though for one second only?

She whom ...

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