And here I wait for thee at the autumn’s gates,
No sunbeam ever weeping a shadow of salty rain…
Some shapeless clouds…some dust of ocean burnt
In desolating waves of loneliness…

A sea-far star, a frozen ghost of thy,
You slumber on, your bed of twilights laid,
In dark-times crept the murmur of the breeze…
And melancholic hours are forever spent…

For rosy dawns to wrap your dream-melting eyes,
Soar towards spheres where grace is hidden still,

Thy given wings, you paint the world in light…