Beneath mine eyelids, that I may not keep
My restless couch; I watch the still moon sweep
Through starry space, like some white soul that spurns
Earth-life, and to the sunlight ever turns;
In her cool beams my burning eyes I steep—
Oh, that my spirit thus may rest in sleep
When my pale ashes mother Earth inurns!
And as the moonlight quieteth unrest,
Changing thought's scorching glow to truth's pure light,
So Thou, who art my heart's most holy guest,