How Pale The Light Lies
P Patti Masterman
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How pale the light lies, beneath the closing door-
Sleepless or sleeping- in shadow evermore.
How the words die, on lips like wilted rose;
But whence the words go, no one ever knows.
How sad the mirror, that only sad eyes shows;
Forlorn the moon, though each night fatter grown.
When dark returns, the door will still be closed-
No moon nor shine, where barren rose is sown.
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