Ernest Rhys

I LIVED in the shadow,

The vesper-moth mine

That hates the green meadow

And yellow sunshine—

The merry sunshine.

Like one of the host

That fell out of heaven,

I doubted, I lost,

My angels out-driven—

My archangels seven.

O sorrow, my raiment,

And trouble, my care;

You are paid with a payment:

The Day-dawn is there—

God’s-gold in his hair.

Now come out of prison,

And step out of night;

And greet him, new risen,

My Day of delight,

My lovely delight.