Across marsh-scape the tempest approaches,

Its breath a chilling tremor in my heart

That whistling wraps, whines, and encroaches

Upon me a whisper, an icy dart.

Over needle grass shadows of clouds fall

Darkening plains and hammocks underneath

In somber shades of melancholy pall

And the cedars bent offer no relief.

Then through towering mass, sun shines its light.

The sword of its setting beams fills the sky.

Anew the fiery pillars shine bright,

Illuminated under heaven’s eye.

No longer shall I dwell in death below;

From above the flame of my spirit shall flow.