Out of the darkness their mighty fall,
From hence they rose ere more they throw,
In light of thirst they yonder grow,
Tender words thought at once so low,
And there begins a triumph better they call:

Wonders then for what he was, whom shall be,
These simple words; his mind so whispered far,
Tuned his mind to the sound his life ne does make,
And threw his eyes at reality’s greatest scar,
Whose life how fret could play not in tune. Ne.

Though little hope it gave a mind’s disgrace,
Comes not his ways to friend and foe unknown
Comes not bitter moments they recall in him,
But strength to walk through dark beknown,
Where hours shall guide him to better place.

Where words alone can not in him fear instil,
How wintry hearts can sing yet suffer lone,
Though he conquer and dispel not himself,
Alas looks to others, in he whom no worser tone
Distracts and humours without charming still.

Now fantasy becomes his life disdained,
Away he walks from all but right,
In virtue’s pass shall he count a better man,
And when they see him again on streets at night
So true shall they smile for conquered rife retained.

Life, Nocturnal, Poetry, Works
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