When I consider how my light is spent
From dawn ’til dusk of day, how pass’d-by yeares —
Therewith O Lord prevent! — are creek of teares,
And I a fountain drain’d of its content.
In dark a world and wide, we are — O dust! —
A meadow in the wind, thus bent are some,
Some straight; to all, ye wheat, the scythe must come
To cringe — while stars fall within sight of us.
Yet lo, the sun is in th’equinoctial point,
And all revolt its blaze, all hall’w its might;
Still all are stars; I, too, am star, not bright,
Yet lit up when I’m soon to Heaven join’d.
Light we are — Flame out of Edenic chars! —,
Light that moveth th’sun and other stars.
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Signed Mannheim, October 13th, 2025. Published November 1st, 2025, the feast of the Solemnity of All Saints.
