by Michael Angerer

Once the world is ended I will see
The glittering stars go drifting by,
Leaving their sparkling trails upon an empty sky,
Unfolding, falling, flowing slowly towards me.

I know not dark, not brightness here,
Where dawnless light endarkens speechless thought
Of future past and present yet unclear,
All non-existent in my lonely void unwrought.

And how could I alone be whole
Without all those who made my soul?
The silent bronze-song of the mourning-bell
Proudly proclaimed my truth: I was in hell.

The Poor Print

Established in 2013, The Poor Print is the student-run newspaper of Oriel College, Oxford. Written by members of the JCR, MCR, SCR and staff, new issues are published fortnightly during term. Our current Executive Editors are Siddiq Islam and Jerric Chong.

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