Gaunt in gloom
The pale stars their torches
Enshrouded, wave.
Ghostfires from heaven´s far verges faint illume,
Arches on soaring arches,
Night´s sindark nave.
Seraphin
The lost hosts awaken
To service till
In moonless gloom each lapses muted, dim,
Raised when she has and shaken
Her thurible.
And long and loud,
To night´s nave upsoaring,
A starknell tolls
As the bleak incense surges, cloud and cloud,
Voidward from the adoring
Waste of souls.
-James Joyce-
Impactos: 4