Dark Days
The sun has left his throne,
The sky is leaden-hued;
The hopeless winds bemoan,
In icy aisles, their fate.
All day the shadows press
About the forest's nuns,
That dream in loneliness
Their dreams of birds and spring.
The Unanswerable
O sombre skies that ever mourn,
O silent skies so grey and stern,
Are ye the curtains of that bourne
Where we at last our fate must learn?
Is it behind your gloomy veil
The Judge with Book of Judgment stands?
Where we must pass, with faces pale,
Awaiting judgment at His hands?
O sombre skies that frown all day
Upon us hopeless, hapless men,
When Death shall beckon us away
What happens then? What happens then?