Hugh Blackwood Cron
After Dark - Poem by Hugh Blackwood Cron
In the still of the night
We can hear the silence
Of a thousand lost souls,
They wander in perpetual darkness,
With grieving, aching, rebelling hearts.
Their mystery being our nightmares,
Our fear from their shadows,
To the spirits of the dead,
The still of the night
Becomes the awakening dawn.
Comments about After Dark by Hugh Blackwood Cron
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye