Like a girl, I dawdle life, in a sweet little dress
And, like a girl in a sweet little dress, I ignore
As the dress sweepeth, the fallen leaves stress
Though ‘twas my intent to not do them more,
Hence, tranquil gaze, I keep my flaccid strolling
For I agnise early that I did not have them falling.
Am I breeze, or mere unidirectional vacuity?
Rather the former, because I eventually linger
Gayly as purposeless motions o’ high divinity.
Yet, can I outshine Nature’s smoothest singer?
Bring me Moon, an’ such impulse shall cease:
E’en holding aught as soul, amn’t but void at ease.