This Horror Will Grow Mild, This Darkness

Morn, Wak'd By The Circling Hours, With Rosy Hand Unbarr'd The Gates Of Light.

Ease Would Recant Vows Made In Pain, As Violent And Void.

The Oracles Are Dumb, No Voice Or Hideous Hum Runs Thro' The Arched Roof In Words Deceiving.

Awake, Arise Or Be For Ever Fall’n.

But Oh The Heavy Change, Now Thou Art Gone, Now Thou Art Gone And Never Must Return!