Every night tears would fill her womb,
Her shaking will draw him more to break,
At last was one night so still to miss:
My dear, in this lasting hour my yonder breath,
New thoughts and pleasant sights is little nigh,
Hence better actions and deeds come tide,
These final hours I give lasting words yet reprieve,
Though I action myself in months before to here,
I am but not finished my actions come for here,
Have it time: God declares this night of birth,
Ere the sun rises shall be birth ye humble year,
May pass how slow and fast encumber fates,
Sour now drown is foul so down her heart as late,
No sparks can free her eyes to better year ahead,
Though I cannot afford a glass between you and I,
But how now I have saved for more life in you in thee,
Whilst my mates would happily get high and laid,
I spend the finer moments remaining with more to wait,
Is not this feeling how splendid to become a father,
Then I shall descend high from self to knee bent low,
I shall witness how more I give humility in honour thee,
Whence fought I sought cupid’s dart in lonely road,
For every man is but every man alone his lonely world,
His dearest mate, whether man or woman, is dear to him,
Though at the end of the darkest tunnel his cries heard,
Weeping thoughts shall glide through darkness again, again,
In steadfast heart his mind yearns to reflect, to reflect,
He would shield not his own from such a fate as he, fate, as he,
Where once he would crawl through the darkest depths, depths,
Before long shall echo his name in little words to speak, to speak,
As now he feels his young as much his young feels his heart,
No tears may be held back, no corner room for tears be made,
Here, in this humble hour became this humble man in action,
Of that still hour, in that still night this kindred cries,
The still minute, the silent second and mutest room in close,
No amount of sparks outdoors can dull their passing of time,
In truth, it was the clock’s pause that turned them whole.
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