Waking By Aldous Leonard Huxley

    Darkness had stretched its colour,
    Deep blue across the pane:
    No cloud to make night duller,
    No moon with its tarnish stain;
    But only here and there a star,
    One sharp point of frosty fire,
    Hanging infinitely far
    In mockery of our life and death
    And all our small desire.

    Now in this hour of waking
    From under brows of stone,
    A new pale day is breaking
    And the deep night is gone.
    Sordid now, and mean and small
    The daylight world is seen again,
    With only the veils of mist that fall
    Deaf and muffling over all
    To hide its ugliness and pain.

    But to-day this dawn of meanness
    Shines in my eyes, as when
    The new world’s brightness and cleanness
    Broke on the first of men.
    For the light that shows the huddled things
    Of this close-pressing earth,
    Shines also on your face and brings
    All its dear beauty back to me
    In a new miracle of birth.

    I see you asleep and unpassioned,
    White-faced in the dusk of your hair–
    Your beauty so fleetingly fashioned
    That it filled me once with despair
    To look on its exquisite transience
    And think that our love and thought and laughter
    Puff out with the death of our flickering sense,
    While we pass ever on and away
    Towards some blank hereafter.

    But now I am happy, knowing
    That swift time is our friend,
    And that our love’s passionate glowing,
    Though it turn ash in the end,
    Is a rose of fire that must blossom its way
    Through temporal stuff, nor else could be
    More than a nothing. Into day
    The boundless spaces of night contract
    And in your opening eyes I see
    Night born in day, in time eternity.