Chapter 128 No.128

I looked up; all seemed as before;

Of that cloud-Tophet overhead

No trace was left: I saw instead

The common round me, and the sky

Above, stretched drear and emptily

Of life. 'Twas the last watch of night,

Except what brings the morning quite;

When the armed angel, conscience-clear,

His task nigh done, leans o'er his spear