Sable-vested Night, Eldest Of Things.

Now Came Still Evening On; And Twilight Gray Had In Her Sober Livery All Things Clad: Silence Accompanied; For Beast And Bird, They To They Grassy Couch, These To Their Nests, Were Slunk, All But The Wakeful Nightingale.

Heaven Open'd Wide Her Ever During Gates, Harmonious Sound, On Golden Hinges Moving.

Thoughts That Voluntary Move Harmonious Numbers.

Necessity And Chance Approach Not Me, And What I Will Is Fate.

Yet Some There Be That By Due Steps Aspire To Lay Their Just Hands On That Golden Key That Opes The Palace Of Eternity.