TIMES
Sometimes,
We think that our thoughts
Can. Really? Can they?
Yet, could we have by thinking bought
A fair maiden for a day?
Most times,
We work hard, so hard
That we think life has heard.
But like them of old we are tossed
Round and round like a herd,
Grazing and greasing the land
Every time
We fear a fall,
Though bitter like gall,
Yet, it must be
That then, to see
Shall be but in the dark,
Where all but light shall not lack
And the will shall be gone
Forever, not for long.