What has the soul to thrive upon?
When days become mere intervals
Between gathering nights
When dreams are just the closing of eyes
Until the gloomy morning;
What feeds the beating heart to flutter?
And nurture it's naive promptings
To be up and running
With sheer joy just to be alive
Until exhaustion beckons our rest;
I will suffer patiently
And I will dream my little dreams
With bedtime books,
Hearty meals and warm clothes,
Comforting thoughts and wishes
Unitl spring bids me to start again.
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