Whence cometh the dawn from this dark night
where our souls are draped with mortal shroud?
Here hath been extinguished, what was our light
and angels hide faces too stained with tears.
Hark, how the shadows in rueful delight
rush up from their baneful expanse
To mock our eternal mortal fight
and to Hades laughing swoop and dance.
Our prince, our rescuing angel of morn
has flown to fields of amber and gold
And left us too tired and too alone
to draw up our faces from the dark.
From whence shall come our daylight reborn
without the elixir that was our strength?
When from black-laced shadows we cannot be torn
without the nectar of your embrace?
You shall be missed, Mr. Coffee.