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In Tenebris

by Ford Madox Ford, 1892

All within is warm,
   Here without it's very cold,
   Now the year is grown so old
And the dead leaves swarm.
In your heart is light,
   Here without it's very dark,
   When shall I hear the lark?
When see aright?
Oh, for a moment's space!
   Draw the clinging curtains wide
   Whilst I wait and yearn outside
Let the light fall on my face.


Any corrections or public domain poems I should have here? Email me at poems (at) this domain.