From childhood's hour, I have not seen
as others saw, the golden hours.
As others saw, I could not dream
of glory so wonderful, of glory's power.
My passions from the common spring.
My passions from the common dream.
My passions arrisen at midnight's fall,
as the sun comes up and the blue birds call.

My sarrows, love, I could not awaken
as mother earth slept, left unshaken.
The beauty I saw, so blatantly plain,
that my breath stole away in feeble waves.

From lemon yellow sun, to her loving sister moon,
I have not seen as others saw.
From the red fog mountain, to his blue brother water,
as others saw, I could not dream.
And of the glory, suculent and sweet,
I believe in magick and that it seeds..
because for the first time, dear,
the hand draws near the golden hours...
and my heart again feels love.