To distil a few golden drops of song...

To distil a few golden drops of song

Through the gloom of this hour;

To filter true emotions

Through passion's burning fire

When the sun bubble-like fades in the west;

As our being craves for night's rest

That pool of silver in life's forest of distress.

To light some pale candles

In the cavern of a lonely isle

And draw the wine of day

From the must of midnight,

Or plant a star-seed in the gray-ploughed eve —

So out of the abyss of the blackness of night

Dawn's million-colored fountain might spring.