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This Is A Poem I Wrote At Night, Before The Dawn
This is a poem I wrote before I died and was reborn: —After the years of the apples ripening and the eagles soaring, After the festival here the small flowers gleamed like the first stars, And the horses cantered and romped away like the experience of skill; mastered and serene Power, grasped and governed by reins, lightly held by knowing hands. The horses had cantered away, far enough away So that I saw the horses’ heads farther and farther away And saw that they had reached the black horizon on the dusk of day And were or seemed black thunderheads, massy and ominous waves in the doomed sky: And it was then, for the first time, then that I said as I must always say All through living death of night: It is always darkness before delight! The long night is always the beginning of the vivid blossom of day.