Dawn (1881) William-Adolphe
Bouguereau
Eos
By Laurie Elaine Hoffman
Dark is the morning—we cannot hope to see
Fingers search disturb—dead air
A blind man seeks—any portal
Any blessed ray—of light.
Dawn wakes to—a clatter
boot heels—and cannon,
pale hair rent—rockets’ red fire;
Dawn wakes to—shattered dreams of silence,
The sound of a swan—in the distance
Weeping—the demise of her mate.
Dark is the mourning—we do not hope to see
The blind man seeks—the deepest portal
Reaches for even a cursed ray—of light.
Bouguereau
Eos
By Laurie Elaine Hoffman
Dark is the morning—we cannot hope to see
Fingers search disturb—dead air
A blind man seeks—any portal
Any blessed ray—of light.
Dawn wakes to—a clatter
boot heels—and cannon,
pale hair rent—rockets’ red fire;
Dawn wakes to—shattered dreams of silence,
The sound of a swan—in the distance
Weeping—the demise of her mate.
Dark is the mourning—we do not hope to see
The blind man seeks—the deepest portal
Reaches for even a cursed ray—of light.
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