It came not from the deep within the bowels of our world;
From somewhere far beyond, the flag of fate's caprice unfurled,
A spectre of vindictive whim dispelled the gods of Night,
And darkness was no more, but only fierce, eternal light.
No sunset; no more dawn, no dusky balm to temper pain,
No shadowed hush of silent sound to whisper hope's refrain,
No more embrace of umbra'd calm to mitigate the toll
Of parasitic evil in the fabric of Man's soul.
O' wicked owl, perfidious fowl, most foul malignant wraith,
Symbolic, bleak purveyor of the rift in righteous faith,
Thy virtue shed like dew from wings in predatory flight,
Thy feathers void of dark to taunt the anguish of the night . . .
Now Light is fast enthroned, unchallenged ruler of the sphere,
No shadows in its glare to blanket unremitting fear,
Chilled daggers of derangement answer stark incessant rays,
Debauchery, dementia rule infinities of days.
Tho' cherished be the breath of life, it cannot long withstand
The fist of light unshielded by a soft nocturnal hand;
The night is gone, there but remains one fount of darkness now;
Although my soul may rot in hell, O' Death, come kiss my brow!