Of early spring they came to speak,
Of snows both blue and white;
And there a star burned at its peak,
Twin lives in dreamful night.
With dim recall of this past day,
They welcomed sleep-filled gloom;
Yet sensed cold steps of temple's clay,
Where golden spires loom'd.
Perse distance of a fairy tale;
A first light just as blithe.
A silent dawn 'til saddest wail
Embraced the last reply.
Severe the day began, august;
Her eyes sought heaven's face;
Death's raiments cold in gilded rust,
Just like these gloom-strewn gates.