SLEEP, gray brother of death, br Has touched me, br And passed on. br br I arise, facing the east— br Pearl-doored sanctuary br From which the light, br Hand-linked with dew and fire, br Dances. br br Hail, essence, hail! br Fill the windows of my soul br With beauty: br Pierce and renew my bones: br Pour knowledge into my heart br As wine. br br Cualann is bright before thee. br Its rocks melt and swim: br The secret they have kept br From the ancient nights of darkness br Flies like a bird. br br What mourns? br Cualann’s secret flying. br A lost voice br In endless fields. br What rejoices? br My voice lifted praising thee. br br Praise! Praise! Praise! br Praise out of the trumpets, whose brass br Is the unyoked strength of bulls; br Praise upon the harp, whose strings br Are the light movement of birds; br Praise of leaf, praise of blossom, br Praise of the red-fibred clay; br Praise of grass, br Fire-woven veil of the temple; br Praise of the shapes of clouds; br Praise of the shadows of wells; br Praise of worms, of fetal things, br And of things in time’s thought br Not yet begotten. br To thee, queller of sleep, br Looser of the snare of death.