If once the pond they rose to hold to hurt,
her hands she cupped and spoke so slow and she
the one they sing of ply the veil. And she
that stood were kept at least and blind to put
such drink today my mouth she bruised if once
from me withdrawn to which I gave undone.
The walk the toil the veil ornate as one
in this belief and gleam of sun so that
we all in kneel to pray. We lay that was
if once unscathed by will confess and His
the hallowed scorn had mount and now if each
whose word were stir and simply left to lyre.