A drizzle of drifting rain
     And a blurred white lamp o'erhead,
That shines as my love will shine again
     In the world of the dead.

Round me the wet black night,
     And, afar in the limitless gloom,
Crimson and green, two blossoms of light,
     Two stars of doom.

But the night of death is aflare
     With a torch of back-blown fire,
And the coal-black deeps of the quivering air
     Rend for my soul's desire.

Leap, heart, for the pulse and the roar
     And the lights of the streaming train
That leaps with the heart of thy love once more
     Out of the mist and the rain.

Out of the desolate years
     The thundering pageant flows;
But I see no more than a window of tears
     Which her face has turned to a rose.