Do not creep kindly into that cold dusk,

Do not creep kindly into that cold dusk,
prone truth should live and pound at close of play;
blaze, blaze against the fouling of the eye.
Though fine heads at their end know lone is real,
Because their bombs had gotten no trust they
Do not creep kindly into that cold dusk,
cold heads, the best drive by, crying how well
Their dismal dreams might have growned in a bright wood,
blaze, blaze against the fouling of the eye.
free heads who shook and sang the moon in hope,
And learn, too close, they scorned it on its way,
Do not creep kindly into that cold dusk,
mean heads, in hell, who see with clenching grasp
failed chance could howl like thunder and be mad,
blaze, blaze against the fouling of the eye.
And you, my love, there on the dreadful shore,
judge, hug, me now with your fierce mind, I pray.
Do not creep kindly into that cold dusk,
blaze, blaze against the fouling of the eye.

Crunch!