Here you will find thePoemDarknessof poet John Crowe Ransom
WHEN hurrying home on a rainy night And hearing tree-tops rubbed and tossed, And seeing never a friendly star And feeling your way when paths are crossed: Stop fast and turn three times around And try the logic of the lost. Where is the heavenly light you dreamed? Where is your hearth and glowing ash? Where is your love by the mellow moon? Here is not even a lightning-flash, And in a place no worse than this Lost men shall wail and teeth shall gnash. Lightning is quick and perilous, The dawn comes on too slow and pale, Your love brings only a yellow lamp, Yet of these lights one shall avail: The dark shall break for one of these, I've never known this thing to fail.
