Late, and lonely, and faint for sleep,
I yet will pause and have silence,
That the thirsty one, my soul,
May open to the night
And drink the dew …

I know that the day was wasted, many-tongued.
In noise and dust I stifled:
Over me passed a wind of words, and the world reeled.

But now I am alone …
Now space, and silence, and my body and I
Bathed in belovèd night …

Dew of the stars and of the ether and earth,
Dew of my soul,
Fall into the cup of my beseeching hands,
That I may put thee to my lips
And drink the waters of great healing.