All the lonely people.
Acquainted with the Night
Robert Frost
I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain – and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.
I have looked down the saddest city lane.
I have passed by the watchman on his beat
And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.
I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry
Came over houses from another street,
But not to call me back or say good-bye;
And further still at an unearthly height
One luminary clock against the sky
Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.
I have been one acquainted with the night
…
Funeral Blues
W. H. Auden
[…]
The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;
For nothing now can come to any good.
…
And this small wheel in the grand scheme of things creaks again.
Thanks to the Penguin Book of the Twentieth Century in Poetry (Viking, 1999) for this.
