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

The Poor Print is Oriel College's student newspaper, with contributions from across the JCR, MCR, SCR, and staff. Our current Executive Editors are Siddiq Islam and Jerric Chong.

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