I'll make a garden of all that progresses,
For this is an animate ground
Where there the celestial gaze hovered, granting leave for fruits to bear;
All things grow of Its engendering stare.
And unto me Apollo gifted his sacred fire
For me to gift to you this natural desire
For all little subsisting qualities
Of this rock sailing the stars in ellipsies.
Now here's that temporal tyrant
Calling those nearing their end to their end,
And how the poets cry out in sorrow
For those that feel the bite if his shrill wind,
But cry not and this sentiment evoke:
That the must conclude will again begin.
Here in my mind a thought awoke
That we shall never end.