Lest sobriety fails to unleash its planned intent
Ensure that humour does not abandon purposeYet even so, tis but only game, played in haste
And we play the parts set us, till the crow calls
The world, (our world,) is soon to again restored
For we have just the spark of aptitude to complete
All of its harsh levels of trial till we are remade
Then sobriety and its temperate watchword ‘denial’
Shall never have seemed so sweet a thing to dream of