When that glorious galactic bowOf spin and light shall be worn out,And that tapestry etherealBe shrunk into slumber profound,As a colossal king age-old;

Avail us thine all-reviving chord,Deeply treasured beneath thy peel,Thereby to awaken that cosmic lord,With promises and visions newOf an all-new spectacle unheard.

Thy singing lips paint thine inward shapeThy radiant eyes unveil such essence.

Ingenious merit hath thy art

To make of thee such mighty stream

Of sweet celestial goods.