I longed for thee when first I crawled to consciousness.
My dreams were all of thee when in the chrysalis I lay.
Oft myriads of my kind beat out their lives
Against some feeble spark once caught from thee.
And one hour mote-and my poor life is gone.
Yet my last effort, as my first desire, shall be
But to approach thy glory; the, have gained
One raptured glance, I’ll die content,
For I, the source of beauty, warmth, and life
Have in his perfect splendor beheld!