People would all fall,
Rise and again fall all.
For dues nature pays,
In this nature all dies.
To the fine or stricken
Stranger things happen.
Mystery is life itself;
God’s own other half.
Here thou are to rein in the pastured flock
With sweeter tender grass and shaded pond,
The falsehood in thy rule does only mock.
Basking in the elongated moments’ bond,
Thou make all thy bread from one rock;
For not one of any is yours to be found.