O’ weep of night, and woeful cries,
a tearful heart of which relies,
upon the soul to bring the lie,
of peace into a broken sky.
O’ to sing among the trees of light,
beyond this place woeful night,
to suffer among the trees of blight,
now so steeped in shallow ground,
do weave in heart to bring them bound,
to keep them from the trees of life, which is a fruitful heart.