 | From the Land of Dreams |  |
39
THE HOUR OF FATE
I
Things dead and things unborn are flying,And thinly wail on the wind tonight,
Like hungry changelings I hear them crying
Round the Dark Moon's den in the wan starlight.
II
My Saint and Angel have hid their faces,My dead sins daunt me with spells tonight,
And sins unborn tempt from unseen places,
Their glamour works in the wan starlight.
III
The past betrays me, the Future thralls me,Fate's hour of power is my hour of blight;
My frail soul falters—the dread voice calls me,
The deed I hate I shall do tonight.
| From the Land of Dreams | |