I saw an ever-flowering tree
And as the dawn rose soft,
I knew Night shall not conquer me.
I held my head aloft.

But as the shadows courted me,
Sweet branches rushed and swayed.
Perhaps afraid of what might be,
Perhaps of what was said.

To shattered leaves I clung, sling still,
And loud I cried with fright;
"O thou that robbed me of my will,
Deliver me from Night!"

But thou stayst silent, and I weep
As deadened petals rise to leap.