Simple Dreary Song He Made

Simple Dreary Song he made Free of all And free of things No thing that was not him Made To him No thing No thing And he sang Sang all freely Sang of Spring That was now Towards the end Sang of Summer That was waiting at The door With parched throat now Filled with wine Waters and liquids divine That kept coming Coming Coming On he hopped all Merrily On he hopped and versed And sang Poet Seer who had Inside him A heart of sad Yet he hopped Yet he joyed As the Sub-Conscious showed its hand And welled up Up to surface as a well Magic well With the liquid almost coming Stream, no end, ever-increasing. Even dusk And its failing twilight Then The night and the eyes of Stars Did not cease him from his Songs And his lines to heavens rose And his lines the people sang And his lines were of the heavens And his lines the heavens rang