I long for the Island of Songs across this heaving Sea of Shouts.
The prelude of the night is commenced in the music of the sunset, in its solemn hymn to the ineffable dark.
I have scaled the peak and found no shelter in fame抯 bleak and barren height. Lead me, my Guide, before the light fades, into the valley of quiet where life抯 harvest mellows into golden wisdom.
Things look fantastic in this dimness of the dusk — the spires whose bases are lost in the dark and tree tops like blots of ink. I shall wait for the morning and wake up to see thy city in the light.
I have suffered and despaired and known death and I am glad that I am in this great world.
There are tracts in my life that are bare and silent. They are the open spaces where my busy days had their light and air.
Release me from my unfulfilled past clinging to me from behind making death difficult.