Poems (Cromwell)/The Bat
THE BAT
Over the river of sorrow Spread thy drab wings wide. Cool is the river. Glide Between the trees. Borrow The prudent feet of the fleeing Beast. Thy pinions blend With leaves. O thou All-Seeing, Be night's obedient friend!
To a gloomy bat, all sorrow Is cool and sombre and sweet. So no wonder thou fearest to meet The feline light of to-morrow. When out from the east a glimmer Of twilight corals thy wings, Thy vision grows dimmer and dimmer, Thou dreamer of dusky things!
When morning comes out from the east, Advancing with stealthy ray, Thy wheeling wings betray Thy presence, Bird-and-Beast, Soaring to dismal bowers With smoke-like motion. Gladness, Flame-like, heaps through the hours Thine ashen sorrow and sadness.
Blinded by noon-day splendor, Unseeing till darkness return, Thy cinereous pinions yearn For stone-colored night. Surrender Thy spirit. Is not the sighing Monotony sweet? Maybe Creation is what we call dying, As daylight is darkness to thee.