Archive for January 14th, 2014

Tuesday, 14 January 2014

In the Night by Beatrice Redpath

When in the night the sky is drowned with stars,
And the moon is but a silver memory,
I am often afraid . . .
Fearful of oblivion,
Fearful of everlasting,
And my mind reaches back to the thought
Of what was before time began,
Until cold terror freezes my heart.
And I turn desperately to think of small, small things,
Of globes of dew,
Of wings and petals,
Candle flames,
A single note striking against silence,
The tinkle of sheep bells,
Oh, of any small and beautiful and familiar thing,
Until, turning quietly in the darkness
I find sleep.

From: Redpath, Beatrice, White Lilac, 1922, John Lane The Bodley Head Ltd: London, pp, 23-24.

Date: 1922

By: Beatrice Redpath (?-1937)