Tide Opulent

All those wide heaths will I walk?
All those shadowed, silky lands?

See the golden Sun on high
See the silver Moon arise
Will I ever, will I again
Feel the rich tide in thy light?
See the golden Sun on high
See the silver Moon arise
Will you ever, will you again
Unseal thine orphan, charming star?

The mysteriousness of dusk and the grandeur of
Sunlight do unite some times. On these rare occasions
Silence is loomed around the hearts and Grief appears
On ambling horse to traverse hills and houses
Oblique beds, motionless pictures slowly and then
We shall remember the olden curse again:
Hic omnia habet Mors!

See the golden Sun on high
See the silver Moon arise
Will I ever, will I again
Feel the rich tide in thy light?

Hic omnia habet Mors!