When Day is Done

Grady McMurtry

The Day is done

There is no sun

To warm the race, and so they fled;

For Earth is old

In sweeps the cold

Entombed in space, and Earth is dead!

The shrilling wind

Across each bend

Mourns for the lost, mourns for the gone:

Unblinking stars

Gaze on its soars

Where is the host, this crumbling bone?

Across the void

We anthropoid

In search of life have sent our shells:

Oh rest in peace

Our Mother, cease;

For toil and strife no more here dwells.

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