AU CAVEAU DES INNOCENTS.
: 28th Oct., 1904.
NIGHT, like a devil, with lidless eyes,
Stands avenging over the Halls.
Sleep there is none, for day awaits
Tokens of toil; there is none that dies,
Death being rest; there is none that calls,
Voice being human; only the Fates
Rattle the dice at a sombre game,
Game without goal of peace or fame.
Sinister, sombre, horrors and hates
Lurk in the shadows, under the walls.
Light deceives, and the darkness lies.
Love there is none; he is child of peace:
Joy there is none; she is bride of force:
Thought there is none; it is birth:—there fell
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