The night drinks its last
breath of warmth.
He whistles his best-
some parodies he wishes
to scribble,
but the chill...
It permits him not
to jot down a few lines:
his...
Gifts of heaven fully laden
Lord’s graces in our hearts
Man’s oblivion makes them gone
Forever gone
Let all the boons be given
To enliven
The dead old good spirits...
