These are things of twilight,
Of visions of the end of night.
O Truth, you enlighten them
Only with a dawn that gleams.

So pale in the loathsome shadows
That at times we doubt even
If it is the moon which creates them
Under the horror of the floating branches,

Or if these gloomy ghosts
Might all right now take shape
And mix into the chorus of things
In the harmonious decor

Of the sun and nature
Sweet to man and proclaiming God
For the ecstasy of the pure hymn
Into the sweetness of the blue sky