Impuissent as I faced my eyes towards firmament,
Fulgent from the sun's blithe ray of light,
The fulguration to my heart illuded me to dulcify,
And still I am ingrate whilst I watch and hark to the birds.

What's clarion is the bestrew of eld,
And the greensward that beheld no dolour,
Inhumed are the roots that continue their endless crescent,...