So are her dawns like jewelled leaves of light.
So casts she her felicity on men.
A flame of radiant happiness she was born,
And surely will that flame set earth alight:
Doom surely will see her pass and say no word,
But too often here the careless Mother leaves
Her chosen in the envious hands of Fate:
The harp of God falls mute, its call to bliss
Discouraged fails mid earth’s unhappy sounds;
The strings of the siren Ecstasy cry not here
Or sooner silenced in the human heart.