You say; "What of Eros and of Strife?"

When, I have been the prophet of my life"

Composing stanzas and similitudes,

At sunset sadly disposed of the residues.

At dawn awoke somewhat censorious,

Worn down each day by some frail chorus

Of dour philosophic platitudes;

- With thoughts sublime and obscure moods.

 

Awoken by some passion or desire?

The maid below re-kindles fire.

While I above, reflect on love

The lamp wound down, I sternly strove

In night-time's splendour to withdraw,

The latch to drop, now lock the door

On past and future periodic times

Bereft of reasons or of rhymes.