The night smothered the bruised, black skies,
And a foul wind began to rise
By the devil’s wills, beyond the hills,
Where all the world’s evil lies.
The night swam through the rivers deep,
Towards a town with no gates, no keep,
Where fate had led us to the dead,
Who lay in a cold, dark heap.
And the night gathered more and more
As its armies from the shadows poured
With sword and spear and sharpened fear,
And on the wind, a fierce, foul roar.
But the dawn rose, shining bright
With flames of red and orange and white.
She heard our prayer, and on the air,
Met the dark with blinding light.
The dawn spread far her flaming wings
O’er trodden lands of warring kings.
The night’s foul ire she bathed in fire
And saved us poor, hapless things.
And the dawn brought forth the day,
Which shone bold in her golden rays.
From cinder and smoke, the sun had woke
To chase the cruel night away.
He Who Wanders 