In torrents dost thy anguish flow
Yet all around thee the earth is dry
For thou dost bury thy currents below
Where hope hides in shadow, and dreams doth lie

Oh great Thespian, with mask and name
How thou dost liven my innermost heart!
For when thou dost try to hide thy shame
I perceive what thou dost not, seeing past thy deceptive art

Loath to let the lover pry
Wary of the friends that dig
Thou hidest from the piercing eye
That luscious fruit, that ripest fig

Thus do thy grievous tears fall
Not from thine eyes, but from mine
For of where thou hast been, I have felt all
And so I know with what pain thou doth balance the line

Thou drownest thy pain
In the deceitful solace of
The fume of the plant, and nectar of grain
While I do but rest in the peace from above

Hoping, ever longing, for that dike to dry
For those scales to slough, and thine eyes to clear
So that thou may know His love that I
Hath longed to share, and that thou should not fear

And so I wait for that Golden Day
That long last sought drought of air
When Kubla Kahn thou shalt cast away
In favor of healing love far more fair

Your true face wish I to see
Beyond the mask, above the name
That shineth with honor and righteous jubilee
And in thy victory, salvation is given you, sans doubt of thine cleansed flame