Songs

When along the road of day, Evening comes with stars and wings, Bids her children put away, Spades and armies, clowns and kings, We remember once again, Love, how lonely love hath lain.

Though the blind day build us in With her sorrows and her spears, Break for us the bread of sin, Lift to us the cup of tears, Yet our prison-house shall be But the door to let love free.