Written In Advent

The day is lost, night is now here,

The day is lost, night is now here,
My deeds are rust and I am old.
Finally the last dawn draws near
And I have wasted my days on gold.

Love I had not, nor even lust,
Evil and good were naught to me,
Rage was worthless, joy worth as dust,
And empty was the earth and sea.

I woke to find—my hair was grey,
My limbs were weak, that were so strong,
My vaunted triumphs passed away,
Each moment short, that was so long.

I woke to find, my soul was free
Of chains of gold and snares of steam,
The snow, white snow, a tree a tree
And broken is the lying dream.

I wake to sing, though I am old,
My hair so black has silvered  white,
My heart is sure, though limbs are cold,
And how the star burns in the night!