Ere long this golden light shall pass and fadeExcept all cherish'd mem'ries ye have made.

Yet this thou art alive, but if ye soar,My poor frail heart will have beat out its cryAnd sadly miss thy sweet form all the moreWhile helplessly I stand and watch you die.

O God bid my poor body to ariseOn that bright day triumphant through the skies!

The seasons bring to life the living lyre

Arise my soul, arise to lighter ways,So cast aside dark shadows haunting thee;O view the orbs and spheres of brighter days,Lost fragments fraught with broken ecstasy.

Come gaze about aged churchyard and beholdThose vanish'd hours of lead and hours of gold.

O May my Song arise like Morning day,And bid me look upon the break of light.