Dark was near to some but not,
And light was stepping slow,
Called in high, the stirred dusk,
In heaps of all the ardor.
Smiled love, and tangled aside,
Grinned the troubles, which after,
Dive thee to the drop,
In still of all the dither.
Myth is in the shades of day and dark,
Dread not the mind for so but long,
In the notch of words played so hard,
Be the seer in the dusk of call.