Mortal my mate, bearing my rock-a-heart
Warm beat with cold beat company, shall I
Earlier or you fail at our force, and lie
The ruins of, rifled, once a world of art?
The telling time our task is; times some part,
Not all, but we were framed to fail and die
One spell and well that one. There, ah thereby
Is comforts carol of all or woes worst smart.
Field-flown, the departed day no morning brings
Saying This was yours with her, but new one, worse,
And then that last and shortest
