Ethereal: the moon, the bane of night –
oh, what doth bolster shining face so fair?
Iridescent stars that sooth our fright –
oh, what doth brighten dulcet light you share?
By all the world, beloved as tokens dear:
‘neath sunbeam, golden, nothing foul conceived:
the blessèd dayspring death to all we fear
while shunned the shadow, cursed the eve…
However, did not holy hands conspire,
in wisdom, breath of life to both impart?
The ebon veil to heighten hea’enly fire?
To ease the soul and thusly sate the heart?
So sweet the humbled life with burdens fraught.
Apart from hardships, blessings come to naught.