My spirit would have beauty to build its magic art
Come hither, star of evening, and dwell within my heart
Oh, twilight, fall in pearl dew, each healing drop may bring
Some image of the song the Quiet seems to sing.
My spirit would have beauty to offer at the shrine,
And turn dull earth to gold and water into wine,
And burn in fiery dreams each thought till thrice refined
It may have power to mirror the mighty Master's mind.
My spirit would have beauty to draw thee nigh, my bird.
I seek the lips that spake thee, sung thee, a starry word.
I'd breathe anew that music, and lure thee from afar,
And still thy quivering pinions at peace in thy own star.