The sunlight on the
Hardens and grows cold,
We cannot cage the
Within its nets of gold;
When all is
We cannot beg for pardon.
Our freedom as free
Advances towards its end;
The earth compels, upon
Sonnets and birds descend;
And soon, my friend,
We shall have no time for dances.
The sky was good for
Defying the church
And every evil
Siren and what it tells:
The earth compels,
We are dying,
Egypt,
And not expecting pardon,
Hardened in heart anew,
But glad to have sat
Thunder and rain with you,
And grateful
For sunlight on the garden.
