How soft does eventide depart,
trailing shades of eyelids' greys-
a blessed celestial procession
that by the light of day decays.

How deep the dark of midnight's reign-
an embrace of velvet-rich coal-
whose starry eyes and dreamer's smile
offer solace and soothe the soul.

How warm the gleam of morning comes;
fiery, its tongue of daylight burns!
Whose lonely heart of heat is this,
that for the dim of dusk yet yearns?

Penned by my hand on the 6th of Chronos, in the year 893 AF.