Skewed eclipse 'gainst His glory frays
To hasten blessed union's end,
Life's bouquet now no more than withered rose,
Heaps lovingly where love's sweet youth rests.
O, foredoomed soul, heart of His sinful earth,
Does He desire my slumbers be broken,
Sights mocked by shadows of your Light's dearth?
Perhaps He holds no share in this world barren,
Tending only to images graven on walls o' gay,
Peace! Shed not tears for seasons of deities departed,
Alas! Why at His temple for your sins must still I pray?
Not lyre, hollow hymn nor psalm sacred,
To times in divine despair, my verse shall stand,
Hallowing Your Grace, now in his faithless hand.
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