I say to you,
Life flitters from the clasps of snoozy men
Who wish to feel comfort alone
And clings to they who feel in their bones
The slow decay to an inevitable end.
I tell you,
Those who invite the sweet drips of the heart
As well as its sour,
Live for days in the senseless man’s hour.
For though these heartfuls hold a burden
While fancying pleasure, free of strife,
They ask their hearts to pump them alive
Knowing full well the pangs of sorrow
May course in their veins by noon tomorrow.