Comes now the quiet time
In this decay of illumination
In the shrinking days
We flee to our comforts
To fires and hearty repast
But where firelight perishes
Where heat will not reach
To gloomy corners and nooks
Returns there the time of ghosts
That sit within quiet shadows
They brood and murmur regret
To prick late upon conscience
And look you well
At what you have done
In the dark of a winter's night
When fairness was forsaken
And all they accomplished undone