The Angel of the Sun
Had spread a wing of flame
Athwart the orient sky;
Then grew my spirit one
With Beauty and became
A Joy that could not die.

At some far torch of gold
The shining soul was lit
And claims celestial kin.
Shadows its house enfold,
But are not one with it.
The splendor bides within.

Sorrow and vain desire
Are drifts of darkness gone
Upon the ebb of night.
Spark of the primal fire,
Bliss wakens with the dawn,
Light answering to light.