Dark the Night
Dark the night,
embraced only by the empty ache of loneliness.
Dark the clouds,
with their cold caress of sorrow.
Questions torn from the heart,
borne on the wind,
buffet the soul,
with stinging tears.
Weary and in pain,
stumbling in the dark,
with wounds confounding
But, the whisper of dawn is heard..
'I know and understand,
your needs and your hopes,
they are of My design...
Surrender to My arms
know my Holy Love'
Light from dawn beckoned,
In weary hope he saw
that His Love would never die.
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Comments about this poem (Dark the Night by Harry Martin )
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(September 25, 1930 – May 10, 1999)
(13 February 1879 - 2 March 1949)
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