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Duncan Campbell Scott - Night
Work rating: Low

The night is old, and all the world
  Is wearied out with strife;
A long gray mist lies heavy and wan
  Above the house of life.

Four stars burn up and are unquelled
  By the low, shrunken moon;
Her spirit draws her down and down--
  She shall be buried soon.

There is a sound that is no sound,
  Yet fine it falls and clear,
The whisper of the spinning earth
  To the tranced atmosphere.

An odour lives where once was air,
  A strange, unearthly scent,
From the burning of the four great stars
  Within the firmament.

The universe, deathless and old,
  Breathes, yet is void of breath:
As still as death that seems to move
  And yet is still as death.
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