THE stars are twinkling in the sky,
As to the pit I go;
I think not of the sheen on high,
But of the gloom below.
Not rest nor peace, but toil and strife,
Do there the soul enthral;
And turn the precious cup of life
Into a cup of gall.
Joseph Skipsey
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-stars-are-twinkling/
