On the doorstep of tomorrow
Drowning in my wine my sorrow
Resting maskless in your hands
Dripping blood upon the sands
You have taught me well to feel
You have seen me rise and kneel
To your knees and to your face
To your triumph and disgrace
Joyful running through your ward
Is my exquisite award
For the service to your crown
As a beanbag and a clown.
Acorn flocks of hair fine
Grace my eyes with their shine
They shall fall and I'll remain
Heartless, hapless and insane
Treading ever in their wake
Reaping sadly my mistake.