Bleak day has petered out. The bleak night soon
Puts out a leaden mantel on the sky.
The thickets full of earthly pine now lie
Before a spectral moon.
A deep and somber ache is on the soul.
Yonder а brighter moon is in ascent
Where air is warmer under evening's tent
And waters like luxurious carpets roll
Out under bluer skies..
It is the time: straight down the hill she runs
Toward the shoreline where the sea intones.
Out there beneath our hallowed stones
She sits alone and with her grief, and cries.
She is alone... and wrings a tear from none.
None kiss her knees in sweet oblivion;
She is alone... to no lips will she yield
Her shoulders, her moist lips or snow-white breast.
.....
......
...................................
There is none worthy of her heavenly love.
I know you weep alone... and am unmoved.
......
But if.........