When once I chance upon a curious thought,
A notion of intrigue that grips my sight,
From all the prior worries that were wrought,
At last arrives my moment of respite;
I tire of trials and tempests swirling fierce,
The constant plight that persecutes my soul,
The dark, the dense, and endless pain that sears,
The fractured fragments never will be whole;
Oh mercy me! Such endless base travail,
Surmounted in a moment of repose,
Respite from terror, torment, storm and hail,
My weary mood transformed and made jocose;
I yearn for tranquil times to grace my being,
For tempered tones to ring when minstrels sing.