In This Middle Hour Of Night
In this middle hour of night,
It seems I'm well now,
As a cloudless sky...
My drawing room is filled,
With friends, we are laughing,
Talking, sharing jokes...
I'm very fine, in this middle
Part of night, the waking
Ghost, the talking skull,
Besmirched once is now
An age old rubbish of bean-bag...
We threw it in the garbage,
As the gutter's dirt.....
No, no devil's past slang!
We are now, praying for our soul...
At the end, we will have ambrosia.
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Comments about this poem (In This Middle Hour Of Night by Neela Nath )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
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