Art that's noble comes from lovers,
Lovers bold and lovers true,
And all the bold and restless eyes
Are rapt upon the noble truth.
They search the sky for light divine
And watch as crimson stars divide
Into
the rapid coersion of time.
They seek the hours for wellborn springs
And dance along the ambient rings
For truth, my love, they dance for truth,
And sing the light for which all men sing.
Their watchful eyes know no doom.
They are carried with laughter to the omnipresent moon.
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