Dead of Night

Slow the saviour comes

ringing his lonely bell

but the hour is late

and we each alone

have curled into our corners

that give a shallow protection

from this sharp-edged world

and have climbed into a sort of slumber

The bell rings

again and again

with its brass voice beckoning

bending beneath the branches

of each wild-armed tree

and bringing the echoes back again

but no one stirred

I heard you in the cavern that comes

between the day and the dream

but the bell could not bring me back.

I am too deeply gone

Slow the saviour comes

and late the hour

The night is already deep

and I am deep in it

Ring on bell ring on

I dreamt I heard you ringing.