To the Lighthouse

{exp:dropcaps color=“brackish” key=“0”}But what after all is one night?  A short space, especially when the darkness dims so soon, and so soon a bird sings, a cock crows, or a faint green quickens, like a turning leaf, in the hollow of the wave.  Night, however, succeeds to night.  The winter holds a pack of them in store and deals them equally, evenly, with indefatigable fingers.  They lengthen; they darken.  Some of them hold aloft clear planets, plates of brightness.{/exp:dropcaps}