What is this thing,
This joy in rising,
That wakes up people’s hearts.
New sensations and ill-advising
Are all connected in the part
How does this thing,
Such royal ranking give,
That makes a King
To leave a beggar
And hollow longing for its wish
Why does this thing,
That makes one dream,
That feels so all-inviting,
In ending seem
So black of heart
Cloud up this silver lighting
Where does this thing,
Carry off the soul
But never leaving it to last.
From sheer beauty
To come down again,
This other Kingdom seems by far the best.
Unfinished Bits 