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family poem

comme lui à qui esprit dans la flamme du midi
les vérités terribles ceux-ci soient
nous qui se sont tenus
mon amour vrai de son oreiller a monté
soyez patient, la vie, quand l'amour est à la porte
o juste et stately bonne, dont les yeux
dans des nombres mournful
souffleur de verre de temps
il y a une ville, builded par aucune main
se reposer dans son culbuteur attendant votre thé
l'air est plein de l'aube et du ressort

 



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