• If hath a soul from flame, dost pure sparks free,
    Then such shall embers tame, outgrown of field.
    A maze by once a lost, unweeded sea,
    With foe of barrel hate, to he i wield.
    But she who happen'd cry a burning wave
    Let thus vanishing point to close appear,
    But now the juice of berries must we save,
    So let the tarp pull free, the rains we fear.
    The blueprint home of only wood supplies.
    If hearts of fury could the minds of sane,
    Then barricade we must the fence of ties,
    And keep the thunder from the carpet's stain.
    The house, the waterfall, the mountains reach,
    Unto the white abyss, the salty beach.