Thoughts Arising From Twilight Poem by David Mitchell

The darkness of the imminent night
Will soon arrive, by spatial law;
The stars not yet their radiant light
Shine forth and compass us in awe.

The sun his daily course has run;
And trudges wearily to bed;
Our mortal day is almost done,
All actions done, all our words said.

And as the sun, howe’er unwilling,
Other parts of the world to glad,
Moves on, I see an almost thrilling
Light, eerie, desperate, and sad.

The clouds not high above it show
By their grim hue of darkling death
That they are sorry he must go
And the Sun’s Light this witnesseth.

I look around; what do I see
At this unjoyful twilight hour?
All that surrounds me seems to be
More dark by night, and reft of power.

What light there is is made by man,
Except those evanescent rays
The sun gave as his course he ran,
And e’er does these declining days.

Am I alone in being brought,
This hour which they say is glad,
To thinking melancholy thoughts,
And being render’d, thereby, sad?

The darkness deepens; still no star
Adorns the heavens the LORD GOD made;
But tho’ invisible, there they are,
Made clear to us by nightly shade;

There must therefore in ev’ry plight
Some faintest glimmer of hope be,
And, come what may, the darkest night
A glorious rising sun must see.

(Saturday,27th August,2005.)