From the Flowers, the myriad mouths of Forest,

Honey’d words have come, and from the Billows,

Bursting, issue of sweet cheering voices.

In this Midnight and moon-glamour’d Darkness,

Winds and Wildbirds crying give me pity;

But, altho’ I hear them, lo! I perish.

For a mighty Voice rolls thro’ my Spirit,

Crying, As thou wert, so art, and shalt be,

Ever and for ever and for ever,

Son of Midnight and moon-glamour’d Darkness,

Rayless, lightless, and thy One Star faded,

Child of Night and Ocean, till thou perish.