Lillies born the light.

 What ails the night at middle hours The frost is vacant from the towers

On some dreaming cloud of white wisps of lillies born the light

Make sweet gestures of the heart And barring tides may longer know

The moon has it's own reflection As the seas may come to glow

Middest where the nights are full And stars then represent that eve

Only love that lays undone Could testify to grieve

For furthermore a love intact may rightfully claim that softened glow

And bring the moon to quarter's low Where the frost may never go.