This stained, stained ray of sunshine that flees the haunted nightHas come, however what we hoped for—this isn’t that daybreak.No! This isn’t that daybreak that we, with candy delight,Would enterprise out to satisfy, and thought we’d discover, in time,Upon the sands of heaven, someplace within the stars:That, there, the sluggish waves of night time would discover their shore;That, there, the lolling boat of all our grief would come to halt.
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Poetry from David Chandler
