I have wept a million tears;
Pure and proud one, where are thine?
What the gain of all your years
That undimmed in beauty shine?
All your beauty cannot win
Truth I learn in pain and sighs;
You will never enter in
This catacomb of the wise.
You are but a slave of light
Who has never know the gloom,
Refusing to see my hopeless plight
You will in freedom your own doom.
Think not in your freedom there
That my pain but follows sin,
There are fires for those who dare
Worship the throne of might to win.
Pure one, from your pride refrain;
Dark and lost amidst the strife,
I am myriad years of pain
Much nearer to the fount of life.
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