when the morning white and rosy breaks,

with the gnawing ideal, upon the debauchee,

by the power of a strange decree,

within the sotted beast an angel wakes.

the mental heaven's inaccessible blue,

for wearied mortals that still dream and mourn,

expands and sinks; towards the chasm drawn.

thus, cherished goddess, being pure and true—

upon the rests of foolish orgy-nights

thine image, more sublime, more pink, more clear,

before my staring eyes is ever there.

the sun has darkened all the candle lights;

and thus thy spectre like the immortal sun,

is ever victorious—thou resplendent one!