Into a world where the stars, sympathetic,
Seem to be fraught with a pulsating breath;
Brilliant, yet shining like tear-drops pathetic,
But sinking at last in oblivion of death!
Sinking, but wrapped in the shroud of the Morning,
Folded in splendour as light shall arise;
Lucifer, herald of Truth that is dawning,
Ride through thy glorious pathway, the skies!
Soon in the east, with a splendour triumphant,
Morning shall break like a great altar-fire,