The clouds amass, forlorn and gray,
To hide the sun, and bring us rain,
Though I alone am locked away,
With thoughts beguiling to my brain.
Am I an outline of the air,
A nebula of dust and light,
To cast my atoms everywhere,
To form another star more bright.
An influence of truth we claim,
Where moral hunger pains to preach,
An argument of burning flame,
Those suns which are beyond our reach.