Come, let us speak of worldly things
for I have heard nightingales sing
Quick, drink of nectar, honeydew!
But stay not long, for I am due
and harried and, then, Time does fly

As fast the clock she ticks away
as fast the Moon drinks up the day
and, drunk on her irony, lies
upon the clock-face of the sky
where she, with Time, bleeds out the day

Come, tear away the hands with me!
Gold astrolabes from tyranny -
and lay of them so far away
that we just might still fool the day
But mark, the Night is clever and she
regardless of your tricks, will stay


Thus let us speak of worldly things
for soon our nightingale shall sing