Trees shall crawl
When I, and trumpets, wail;
And not in mirth or stony smile
Today will rest its laurels on a breach of joy,
But in the soak of thunder-clappèd rain.
I adore Him sometimes less today.
Tomorrow, I shall have no friends no more;
Tonight, I go to bed, empty soul and flesh,
And all for all my happiness that reigns
In tempest for a goodnight kiss.