The moon glows down at the ships at sea,
It glows on you and it glows on me
For whatever we'll become, or want to be.
Tonight if all goes as carefully planned,
At dusk you'll be a Demigod Ram.
Let desires be triumphs, as they can.
No seagulls flying, the ships are going,
I can hear now the devil: He's blowing:
Ay! To look at the night-water glow;
History tells me, here comes the Foe!
We haven't much time—it's all but a mist—
Now is the time to play with our wits:
The devils setting examinations,
The scribes are writing his fascinations!
The poet's reciting to the Diamond Ram
He'd like to run, but he cannot stand
'What can he do?" but mutter for butter;
What can I say—tomorrow's better?