Poems about twilight
But Since It Is Playing Kill Us,
the twilight stood as strangers do
each little doubt and fear,
that we've immortal place,
but since it is playing kill us,
In The Fair Schoolroom Of The Suspense
the twilight stood as strangers do
just as the dusk was brown
the morning's amber road
in the fair schoolroom of the sky
and the affairs of june
in face of the suspense
but state with creeping blood
as pride were all it could
but what that place could be