Skip to main content

What Fear Remains

ISSUE:  Autumn 1940

The spider’s coil is limned with dew,
The bat falls blind against the gate;
And every shadowy wing that flew Mysterious and great

Folds with the dark, and goes to ground.
The frosty branch holds light entwined;
And now no snare, no quavering sound That dawn has not defined.

Now man, so long awake, may rise And walk the paths the sun will chart.
And though he cannot yet disguise The shadow on his heart,

What fear remains is less by day.
He knows the path his heart must take;
He asks no more than that he may Be certain how it break.


This question is for testing whether or not you are a human visitor and to prevent automated spam submissions.

Recommended Reading