Little I knew that sun be torn,
Proved little of me than light within,
That it has brought me stars to learn,
A smile to know, the light is breathing;
Each drop of my food, soup and bread,
Be it the finest stew with meat be served,
With wine I shall be whole lest misled,
This much I fathom tell, this night deserved.
A muse would come at my window now,
No pun intended, this much I ere assure:
Each star but a sun once I torn (it is now),
So my cheapish words convince resure,
Drink of the youth spent and cursed here,
That sun torn became that youth divine,
If ever you proved little of light so near,
Let's sit and speak of misses now to sign.