Gargoyles

Then the ruin of night we beheld As the sun stormed the heights of the sky With his myriad swords, and compelled The pale tremblers, the planets, to fly. He drave from their place All the stars for a space, From their bastioned towers in the sky. Thrilled through to the marrow with heat We abode (as we glode) on the river. Every arrow he launched from his seat, From the white inexhaustible quiver, Smote us right through, Smote us and slew, As we rode on the rapturous river. Sweet sleep is perfection of love. To die into dreams of my lover, To wake with his mouth like a dove Kissing me over and over. Better sleep so Than be conscious, and know How death hath a charm to discover. 53