Sleep sank them lower than the tide of dreams,
And their dreams watched them sink, and slid away.

Sleep mothered them; and left the twilight sad.

Cool pools from a tired land sink now in the peace of evening Clouds weaken and die. The sun, an orange skull, whispers quietly, becomes an island, & is gone. There they are watching us everything will be dark. The light changed. We were aware knee-deep in the fluttering air as the ships move on trains in their wake.

Lost, so small amid that dark, hands grown cold, body image fading down corridors of television sky.

A screaming comes across the sky. It has happened before, but there is nothing to compare it to now. It is too late. The Evacuation still proceeds, but it's all theatre. There are no lights inside the cars. No light anywhere. Above him lift girders old as an iron queen, and glass somewhere far above that would let the light of day through. But it's night. He's afraid of the way the glass will fall soon it will be a spectacle: the fall of a crystal palace. But coming down in total blackout, without one glint of light, only great invisible crashing.

In the most affirming places of their love Suddenly they grew tired, out of breath Little by little they felt the death Of some places left in darkness

They died, as if o'ercome by sleep.

So you leave, and there is an urge to look back, to look back just once as the sunset fades, to see that severe New England skyline one final time...Best not to look back. Best to believe that there will be happily ever afters all the way around - and so there may be; who is to say there will not be such endings? Not all boats which sail away into darkness never find the sun again, or the hand of another child; if life teaches anything at all, it teaches that there are so many happy endings that the man who believes there is no God needs his rationality called into serious question...So drive away quick, drive away while the last of the light slips away...drive away from Derry, from memory...but not from desire. That stays, the bright cameo of all we were and all we believed as children, all that shone in our eyes even when we were lost and the wind blew in the night. Drive away and try to keep smiling. Get a little rock and roll on the radio and go toward all the life there is with all the courage you can find and all the belief you can muster. Be true, be brave, stand. All the rest is darkness.

Earth, left silent by the wind of night, Seems shrunken 'neath the gray unmeasured height.

The nights are clear but suffused with sloth and sullen expectation.

Lampposts look in the glow of their defeated light robbed by the fog but cannot tell if the streets lying by stretching limbs in courtyards are sleeping face downwards or supine.

Darkness thickened and collapsed about him. Some of it never lifted again.

Before them, the statue of Holy person Subside, who had been so darkened by the climate that he could have gone for an African, was roosted dubiously on a sort of steeple at such an edge, that it looked as though in a little while he would come toppling down.

It is in the darkness of their eyes that men get lost