Men of virtue forever walk unseen,

during the midnights everlasting light,

upon the lane with which one has no sight,             

with ladies that may compare to thy queen.

The men look upon that beautiful stream,

and glean from its water some will and might,

so they may someday be able to fight,            

For the thing they can never quarantine.                     

The women will never provide the shade,

or compare thee to a mid-summer’s day,                 

for they are pregnant with the king of pain.

The virtue of the men will come to serenade,

and the palisade will be torn away,                             

only to bring death to the women’s reign.