Unbidden moves the sword,

pouring pages deep hidden,

inking hearts with a word,

no more morose, sorrow ridden;

how paint joy with bloody blade,

how cross the grievous river,

these sorrows that never fade,

not Oliver twisted but a Gulliver;

the muse rushing on me with a crush,

however brief, I am floating glad,

why pine girls that gave me a brush,

nothing on the world that can’t be had;

sinking, life will give you a buoy,

do all, even if sink, only with joy. 

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