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To The Sleeping, To The Awake
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The Lectern's Rise Beauty, the things, and fruit of virgins are,
All ours to water florals before they mar
With time, sucker, eater of all seasons, here
Are all the women living and dying near,
Throngs and the world. Oh the daily,
Suns give the light, there already,
How many more living days
Thee had, much hours away ?
What things on earth have thee made,
Thyself the gains? What thee paid,
Of toil or labour ? What do you possess,
And cling your heart unto, not any less?
Just like myself, unto the strings;a Lyre,
My hand the sound of it, keep turning higher!
