To each the content of fulfilling,
To he the event be unfolded,
To she the desire is willing,
To they the apart be not moulded.
Is love a compartment surrounded?
Embraced with a mind that is chained by
A grasp underneath the united
And soul parallel to the cause?
Enveloped she faces the plague of
Reality constantly jeering:
Remorseless and dull the pedantic
Ineptitude cringes the hearing.
He whispers that love everlasting
Be not disenchanted by lies that
Suggest that a Christmas is better
With letter and item—no life at.