Fancies that broke through language and escaped;
All, I could never be,
All, men ignored in me,
This, I was worth to God, whose wheel the pitcher shaped,
So, take and use thy work:
Amend what flaws may lurk,
What strain o’ the stuff, what warpings past the aim!
My times be in Thy hand!
Perfect the cup as planned!
Let age approve of youth, and death complete the same.