I crept all alone through the night by the light of a star,
Half saw in the dark all the things that are frightening in dreams,
Stumbled on rocks, into briars, and out of eternity;
My hand found the candle. I lit it and held it aloft.

    Where am I going, so strangely perplexed?
    How does the world run, by logic or lust?
    Why am I travelling, windblown and lost?
    How shall I see if the candle blows out?

So I followed the star to a hilltop and waited for dawn.
I was dazzled by brilliant sunshine and deep glowing sky,
My tentative  footesteps a maze, quickly lost in the grass,
Where the spring of the year danced around me and beckoned me on.

    Sometimes I stood there to listen and look
    When I stopped travelling; looked at the world
    Displayed in the sunlight, familiar or strange;
    The candle unheeded still burned in my hand.

I wandered knee deep among daisies and sunshine and joy,
And then summer was over, and whispering autumn descended
On flat empty lands, and bitter cold winds blowing easterly,
Clouds in the darkening sky, and no warmth, and no star.

    Where should I go now, so strangely perplexed?
    Why am I travelling, windblown and lost?
    Winter is shaking the guttering flame;
    What shall I see when the candle blows out?