Now you're ever dumb if song's denied you,
You shall be more dumb than all beside you,
While your soul is shaken by its torrents—
Dante songless in a Dante Florence.
Age shall not make strong, nor deeper learning.
Grief grows clearer with your eye's discerning.
Pass the years, but oh the soil grows faster—
Richer for the roots of your disaster.
Ends the play—for what is life but dying?
What is love but fire forever crying?