If all the stars in the heavens were looking down
Upon those fairy dimming lights, wrapping round,
And each slow blow of wind blew without sound
Throughout the dim, cold, dank street of town,


Would you, with streaking moonlight in your eye,
See the scar of heart that shrieks in fear,
And through some miracle of feeling, shed a tear
For the knelling of shining dark bells to nigh.


This forgone land of dreams, hidden in hiding slumber,
Rummaging in the toy box of my mind’s memory,
Should turn all to naught, sleep to light-filled, decree,
You are nothing in thought but the sleepless hunter.