In a desert of distraction and joy
I lose my long borne wealth of lofty thoughts,
I roam a clearing in which pleasures cloy
Coming from open ecstasy filled spots.
In a river which from delight is dry
I lose a murmuring crystalline brook,
A running clarity of studies high
Which can make during one night a full book.
In a gloomy poorly lit cobwebbed room
Where still is the air, and hefty the dust,
I lose a dawning beam touching a bloom
Of a wild young rose triumphing with lust.
Many goods I lose in dead sites for sure,
But in Thee shall I seek and find the cure.
