FORSAKEN AND FORLORN

By David Herbert Lawrence

THE house is silent, it is late at night, I am alone.

From the balcony

I can hear the Isar moan,

Can see the white

Rift of the river eerily, between the pines, under a sky of stone.

Some fireflies drift through the middle air

Tinily.

I wonder where

Ends this darkness that annihilates me.