Over and over falling
Though never meant to be drowning
Oh, drought and false pain!
Constant companions
And constant reign

In the midst of a mist
Seeking balance and feast
Never shall be hindered
The kindred of those
For ever remembered

The truth makes us hermit
Of faith and merit
Even lone while not
Unless 'tis true
'Tis better to have naught

My age is revealed
Within my lines, 'tis laid
On the slopes of doom
Or the brink of bloom