Sad Farewell

    When night comes, blowing her black bereavements
    before dusk’s averted eyes, garments of
    the moon rise will veil my afflicted heart
    amid her caravanning stars above.

    All vestments of the evening’s beauty sings
    out chords of sorrow, bidding sad farewell;
    they fall upon my disconsolate feet
    and tinkle softly as an ankle bell.