From “Aubade” By Philip Larkin
The cru that brings the flickering light
towards the soundless dark, a bitter stare
Another night of your palsied fright -
Another aube closer - to being There.
Fear not friend a sudden wake
Or the rapture where fools seek to go
Neither song, nor flight will angels take -
Only a myth - a pernicious glow.
There is no escape from the mortal drape
As Nerro play’s to the Reaper’s din
Death still clings to its corporal shape -
And at the aube - just begins again.
But, tell us friend when was yours to bestow,
Did you beckon a pass to the ethereal show?
Châz
