Night Bell
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08. Night Bell
Behind the trellis passes the moon of quietude
A dearth of glee, hope ever lapsing
Cold and haunted by the caustic past
The day's fervour and that drawing tide
A pall of late obsession
Despondence laden, the waters allayed
Imperilling winds on the knoll
Sorrow's vine besets, hewn mirth ebbs
Ephemeral pleasure, undying dourness
The night bell drones a fickle chime