Winter Starset

Stars on a winter night

Burn fresh and fair upon the grave;

Though a death wind whip at the long tassels of their light,

They shine, they are young, they are brave.

The timbre of these blossoms in the air:

The topaz and the scarlet and the steel,

The blue steel and the silver bending there

On the bell scale, on the wheel.

Bending there now, and bending down upon

The grave, the briefest day's grave, in the pull

Of the Judgment. Older than snow and the earth swan,

They are more merciful.