Work the earth and plough the sweetness
Thy innocent hands not wrought in painI long to dive and become an Island
Tendering arms of grapes, and dates
In silence, still waters hum a prayer of
Comfort joys and rests asunder beneath
Reflective eyes of the heavens yonder
Work the earth and plough the sweetness
Thy innocent hands not wrought in pain
Yet thou embrace my bosoms and bury
Thy youthful fathers faces stabbed and wounded
With tools thou wrought from veils of my belly
My heart tears a cry often pearls it become
Yet men of wealth discern not the lustre giving
Tokens as loose change to vagrants yearning
Bitter sweetness of wine revenged hearts
Forsaken amidst their lovers' kisses
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