David Burton Richardson Biography

Dark night and deepest thought
And broken sleep and broken dream
The darkest night of tortured walk
Of darkest past and darkest talk
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Deep down in Deaths dark depths of sodden soil
Of Bodies decay that speak no more
Words that talk upon the Stone
And echo loud upon the Wall
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Words gushing, thrushing
Thrusting and pushing
Are silent when all is done
And they will mean a truer word
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Death has no master, but master it will be
And the pale velvet mist of time
Will pull and tear the everlasting Tree
That reaches for the dark and damp ridden Earth
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The Valley high, the Valley low
Of loathesome histories past
I long to see and long to go
Where memory comes to pass
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