Stand prudent and be prideful in your passion for the rose, fear not the prick of the thorn. Know that it is only the stained bloodof pain which reveals the depth in the cloth of love. Step quickly on to the bright stage and let your follies be your only regret, because thru quiet and rest shall you recline in bier.
Heavenly souls may to you be denied but do not weep, for below God's sentry all have chance to brand their charriot's footprint along the sands of joy. Lips that once beguiled shall be ever tethered to your spirit and hearken solely to its whispers.
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