This day at last has come undone and still Something to be desired ever lasts An emptiness for which there is no fill A craving deepened by thoughts of our past The wandering soul approaches just so keen His wondering hastened only by the sun An apperception laced in satin sheen Creation, death amounted by the gun Ask again and may you encounter scorn In order to indulge this muddled trance These casket littered sanctuaries mourned From idle waltz to solemn, arcane dance By right and life omit this fatuous rule Who act so stout most often act the fool