The good old sun shining bright,
Brightly shining high
And dry;
The heads are soaring high,
Soaring above the plight
Of reality
The light covered in the night,
Turning, the thousand dreams of night
A headless knight of yonder years
The soul wretched in wonder
Over the secret beholder
Wonder too, had sages in yonder
Naught had it discover
Neither would be the toddler
Under the glimpses
Of Eden’s carvers.
But wonder I no more
I had seen;
And, they had seen,
No more love nor peace
Seen I, in the stone
Thousands had wandered for;
While, as true pilgrim
Said they, still
Health! Wealth! Peace!
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