The Secret Must Be Kept From All

The Revelations Of Devout And Learn'd Who Rose Before Us, And As Prophets Burn'd, Are All But Stories, Which, Awoke From Sleep They Told Their Comrades, And To Sleep Return'd.

There Was A Door To Which I Found No Key: There Was The Veil Through Which I Might Not See.

Yes, The First Morning Of Creation Wrote What The Last Dawn Of Reckoning Shall Read.

My Friend, Let's Not Think Of Tomorrow, But Let's Enjoy This Fleeting Moment Of Life.

Alas, That Spring Should Vanish With The Rose! That Youths Sweet-scented Manuscript Should Close!