Listen the words sweet and sober,
All is lingering ere tales veil her,
In coolest springs is joy beheld,
Laid by courses streaming held,
At last brought before a city woven
Hot in breezes sound as ought be open,
Added to the mix was strength and mute:
It could have been like jestered lute,
Longing be heard, if not for rain,
And when the grief comes forth,
Little by little it dissolves as dearth.
Life itself could spell the name well,
Angst, and sorrow, brewed to swell,
How now I live, so beautiful, so good?
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