Gloire d'Amour
O quench the sun,
Blur every star,
And bid the moon begone!
Love will the surer blindfold grope
To heavens of his own.
He lights the soul
With myriads
Of pagan fires to bliss —
Grant Love his hour of blazing darks,
His heavens glory-hid!
O quench the sun,
Blur every star,
And bid the moon begone!
Let Love with hot immortal lips
Find heavens of his own!
Blur every star,
And bid the moon begone!
Love will the surer blindfold grope
To heavens of his own.
He lights the soul
With myriads
Of pagan fires to bliss —
Grant Love his hour of blazing darks,
His heavens glory-hid!
O quench the sun,
Blur every star,
And bid the moon begone!
Let Love with hot immortal lips
Find heavens of his own!
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