Classic Poem

Gently descending dark--
Curtain of silence
From heaven to earth;

The drama of day over,
Empty the seats of life,
Dead the twilight fire.

Curtains of black
Woven from threads of purple
By the hands of a star,

That lone soul weeping
Over the dead hours
Laid by mute time in the eternal's grave.

In the night of my soul
Not even a ray,
Nor a mourner present;

But a deep dark hollow
Where no fate weeps
Even fear is afraid to tread:

Fear-forsaken, hollow within hollow,
Even silence flees from me--
O, the pity of it!