The day is rainy and chill and drear
Blood runs thick; the heart misgives
The hour’s gods do not hold dear
What moves and breathes or thinks it lives.
Compass needles will not point true
Or north has drifted from its post
And wanders now, just as you do.
A shadow stirs – a mouse? a ghost?
No matter; all within this place are lost
Nor star nor dream to light the way
No anodyne for soul that’s sick
Rainy and chill and drear the day
The heart misgives; the blood runs thick.