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The times are nightfall, look, their lights grows less;
The times are winter, watch, a world undone:
They waste, they wither worse; they as they run
Or bring more or more blazon man’s distress.
And I not help
Nor word now of success:
All is from wreck, here, there, to rescue one
Work which to see scarse so much as begun
Makes welcome death, does dear forgetfulness
Or what is else?
There is your world within
There ride the dragons, root out there the sin
Your will is law in that small commonweal…

Lyrics was added by roman59


The Habit Of Perfection (with Jan Hrubý)