Poem of the day

The Three Witches
by Ernest Dowson (1867-1900)

All the moon-shed nights are over,
⁠      And the days of gray and dun;
There is neither may nor clover,
⁠      And the day and night are one.

Not an hamlet, not a city
⁠      Meets our strained and tearless eyes;
In the plain without a pity,
⁠      Where the wan grass droops and dies.

We shall wander through the meaning
⁠      Of a day and see no light,
For our lichened arms are leaning
⁠      On the ends of endless night.

We, the children of Astarte,
⁠      Dear abortions of the moon,
In a gay and silent party,
⁠      We are riding to you soon.

Burning ramparts, ever burning!
⁠      To the flame which never dies
We are yearning, yearning, yearning,
⁠      With our gay and tearless eyes.

In the plain without a pity,
⁠      (Not an hamlet, not a city)
⁠      Where the wan grass droops and dies.

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