  A drizzle of drifting rain And a blurred white lamp o'erhead, That shines as my love will shine again In the world of the dead. Round me the wet black night, And, afar in the limitless gloom, Crimson and green, two blossoms of light, Two stars of doom. But the night of death is aflare With a torch of back-blown fire, And the coal-black deeps of the quivering air Rend for my soul's desire. Leap, heart, for the pulse and the roar And the lights of the streaming train That leaps with the heart of thy love once more Out of the mist and the rain. Out of the desolate years The thundering pageant flows; But I see no more than a window of tears Which her face has turned to a rose. |
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