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Sometimes a lantern moves along the night
That interests our eyes
And who goes there?
I think; where from and bound, I wonder, where
With, all down darkness wide, his wading lights?
Men go by me whon either beauty bright
In mould or mind or what not else makes rare:
They rain against our much-thick and marsh air
Rich beems, till death or distance buys them quite
Death or distance soon consumes them: wind
What most I may eye after, be in at the end
I cannot, and out of sight is out of mind
Christ vminds“ Christ’s interest, what to avow or amend
There, eyes them, heart wants, care haúnts, foot follows kind
Their ránsom, théir rescue, and fisrt, fast, last friend.

Lyrics was added by roman59

The Habit Of Perfection (with Jan Hrubý)