Mortal my mate, bearing my rock-a-heart br Warm beat with cold beat company, shall I br Earlier or you fail at our force, and lie br The ruins of, rifled, once a world of art? br The telling time our task is; time’s some part, br Not all, but we were framed to fail and die— br One spell and well that one. There, ah thereby br Is comfort’s carol of all or woe’s worst smart.