What work's this, the past to rest
We can but drag shipping threads
The rope of life's woof and weft
To shuttle days, blindly lead
By weather and dreams of youth
Weave the lines from every root
Bind the findings of your truth
To all selves you can recruit.
Eastern light will make the past
Less real than the rising dust
First palour of the year toast
And strike to smith the year's musts.
Spin all beams that fall upon thee
To threads of richest tapestry.
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