From depths of death to life above
The ancient scourge returned
To steal the precious light for which
Its shadowed spirit yearned.
The night it rose, the waxing moon
Shone brightly in the sky.
The fiend reached forth, the moonlight dimmed
And vanished from the eye.
The silent stars within their slots
Shook, fearing for their light.
Then, one by one estinguishèd,
They gave way to the night
As black as pitch, the dark so thick
As to possess a weight,
A substance daemoniacal
A grim foreboding fate.
The Shadowed Dead - the darkened stars -
Lie lost apart, alone.
The world in wonder sheds its tears;
The Darkness takes its throne.