The moon, the wandering stars that circle her,
And the far-shining glory of the sky,
Which when it has grown old shall fall again
Into the night of chaos,—that last day
Has come, which ’neath the ruin of the skies
Shall bury this vile race. A brighter sun,
Newborn, shall bring to life another race,
Like that the young world knew, when Saturn ruled
In the high heavens.