The Belfry of Bruges and Other Poems/Curfew
CURFEW.
I.
Solemnly, mournfully,Dealing its dole,The Curfew BellIs beginning to toll.
Cover the embers,And put out the light;Toil comes with the morning,And rest with the night.
Dark grow the windows,And quenched is the fire;Sound fades into silence,—All footsteps retire.
No voice in the chambers,No sound in the hall!Sleep and oblivionReign over all!
II.
The book is completed,And closed, like the day;And the hand that has written itLays it away.
Dim grow its fancies;Forgotten they lie;Like coals in the ashes,They darken and die.
Song sinks into silence,The story is told,The windows are darkened,The hearth-stone is cold.
Darker and darkerThe black shadows fall;Sleep and oblivionReign over all.