The wise man spends his life, alas
Till sand is low in hourglass
And never finds his true desire
The one to which all hearts aspire

No measure half is mirrored there
In eyes so blue 'neath golden hair
An older love does pale to shame
Poor spark it is to brilliant flame

It fills the heart, it braids the rope
When else is gone, springs forth sweet hope
We see the world...eternal Spring
When born afresh, the angels sing