English poem
Iv
by Joyce Kilmer (1886–1918)
On nights like this the huddled sheep -- I never saw a night so fair. How huge the sky is, and how deep! And how the planets flash and glare!
At dawn beside my drowsy flock What winged music I have heard! But now the clouds with singing rock As if the sky were turning bird.
O blinding Light, O blinding Light! Burn through my heart with sweetest pain. O flaming Song, most loudly bright, Consume away my deadly stain!