Lights
L IGHTS
Through a rush of rain the rush of a funeral train,
And the pale arm of a headlight pushing
The darkness from its track,
With a swift ghostly sweep,
Into the outer darkness.
Pushing it, as, perhaps, the departed soul,
On its way to the Unknown,
Pushes back Death's inimical darkness.
Through a rush of rain the rush of a funeral train,
And the pale arm of a headlight pushing
The darkness from its track,
With a swift ghostly sweep,
Into the outer darkness.
Pushing it, as, perhaps, the departed soul,
On its way to the Unknown,
Pushes back Death's inimical darkness.
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