The bell is mute. The silence rings.
The night entangles sunset's wings.
Star droplets on its cobweb rest.
A cry for rescue is suppressed.

The bell is mute. The sun has gone.
But earth glows like a red-hot stone.
The cowslips flow with yellow sound
And sunbeams every tree surround.

In cobwebs shrouded, on comes night.
The silent bell reflects no light.
Deep in your body flames still glow
Where streams of sunbeams ever flow.