When White And Ruby Dawn Among The Rakes Breaks In, SHe's With The Harrying Ideal, And By Some Strange Retributive Appeal Within The Sleepy Brute, An Angel Wakes. The Perfect Blue Of Spiritual Skies For The Lost Man Who Dreams And Suffers, This Pierces Him, Fascinates Like The Abyss. And So, Dear Goddess, Lucid, Pure And Wise, Over Debris The Orgies Leave Behind Your Memory, More Rosy, More Divine Constantly Flickers In My Vision'S Sight. The Sun Has Blackened Candles Of The Night; Your Phantom Does The Same, O Conquering One, Resplendent Soul, Of The Immortal Sun!