Foolish one! Have you not yet realised?
Time passes with each second
Would you yet stand still?
What lo, behold, he lies prostrate
Before these lifeless forms of
Wood, murdered in the past age
From the Southern forest that
Flourished then, but today sighs and weeps
In sorrowful regret of
Providence so churlishly spurned
Blessings fallen like leaves in the
Ocean; never to return to these shores
