You must leave ,
before the evenings twilight fades ,
before the nutrons and elements of the suns eternal rays, collapse and return to where they once came .
Before the housemartins perch on roof tops to tall to climb ,.
and yonder mill can't be seen or won!
And all that can be seen is seen,
and all that can be done is done .
Untill every blackbird that sings upon the village green ,
and every slug and worm ,
that Burroughs in-between ,
might feel the chill of the mornings dew ,
and the warmth of the rising sun anew .
Then go before the snakes coiled spring
moves swiftly to its prey ,
hastening it's sirens to every whim
that wells up throughout the day .
For the adder and the cobra strike with vile intent ,
and sin when it's coil is sprung brings a poison that dulls the soul
if left without being pruned or sheered .
For bile left when fully grown,
brings only death and foolish jeers .
For the grave has no use for pansies and fox gloves ,
no need for romantic thoughts of love .
Just a stone to remember who has been,
and a cross to bear in redeeming love .