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"There is a budding morrow in midnight" –
"There is a budding morrow in midnight" –
So sang our Keats, our English nightingale.
And here, as lamps across the bridge turn pale
In London's smokeless resurrection-light,
Dark breaks to dawn. But o'er the deadly blight
Of love deflowered and sorrow of none avail
Which makes this man gasp and this woman quail.
Can day from darkness ever again take flight?
Ah! gave not these two hearts their mutual pledge,
Under one mantle sheltered 'neath the hedge
In gloaming courtship? And O God! today
He only knows he holds her – but what part
Can life now take? She cries in her locked heart,
"Leave me – I do not know you – go away!"
There is a new day starting in the middle of the night.
This is what Keats, our English poet, sang.
And here, as the lights on the bridge grow dim
In London's clear morning light,
Night turns into day. But over the terrible ruin
Of love lost and sorrow that helps no one
Which makes this man struggle to breathe and this woman tremble.
Can daylight ever escape from darkness again?
Didn't these two hearts promise each other,
Under one cloak hidden beneath the hedge
In evening romance? And oh God! today
He only knows he holds her – but what role
Can life now play? She cries in her closed heart,
"Leave me – I do not know you – go away!"