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datatime: 2022-12-02 05:23:27 Author:DOdKIQou

Desire of times unripe, we have these two,

For a Heracles in his fighting ire there is never the glory that

Where flocks now bleat and sprouts the clod.

For a Heracles in his fighting ire there is never the glory that

Who sees what tomb a white night built,

But to vision alive under shallows of sight, lo, the Labourer's

With sound of its own hungry quest;

When ashen he lies and the poets arise to sing of the work he has

Thought of the girl we love from cold.

Play spectre upon eye and mouth:

A City clothed in snow and soot,

Earth has to fill her empty wells,

For iron Winter held her firm;

Thought of the girl we love from cold.

When these two meet, a point of time is ours.

The bitten buds dared not unfold:

The world shall know itself and where it stands;

To honour his race, this deed of grace, for the weak from the strong

The warm Southwest awakes,

For a Heracles in his fighting ire there is never the glory that

That her sons over seas in a rally of praise may behold a thrice

Her shivering Spring feigned fast asleep,

Desire of times unripe, we have these two,

Make man, behold, nor count the low the least,

FORESIGHT AND PATIENCE

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