To each the content of fulfilling,

To he the event be unfolded,

To she the desire is willing,

To they the apart be not moulded.

Is love a compartment surrounded?

Embraced with a mind that is chained by

A grasp underneath the united

And soul parallel to the cause?

Enveloped she faces the plague of

Reality constantly jeering:

Remorseless and dull the pedantic

Ineptitude cringes the hearing.

He whispers that love everlasting

Be not disenchanted by lies that

Suggest that a Christmas is better

With letter and item—no life at.