Rhymes another part lies in your heart,
Before seeing its noble birth.
Strains beset like cascading blacken hairs long,
Too soft and sense touching strong.
Never let it to assume slumberous maidenhood
And fly fast to some distant wood.
Stories, handful and sparingly grown
Burn like altars candle, dimly shown.
Thoughtful minutes looking old and hammered,
Sing with voices vacant, pitifully stammered.
Words newborn, light and of drowsy brood
Tremble like mine suffering plaintive mood.
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