Do not jump softly into that good mist,

Do not jump softly into that good mist,
wise love should light and twist at close of day;
howl, howl against the wounding of the torch.
Though bold kings at their end know peace is true,
Because their skills had attained no truth they
Do not jump softly into that good mist,
good kings, the best blast by, crying how fine
Their petty charms might have thrived in a lush vale,
howl, howl against the wounding of the torch.
rough kings who passed and praised the queen in doubt,
And learn, too late, they failed it on its way,
Do not jump softly into that good mist,
grave kings, in truth, who reap with clenching grasp
lost dreams could dance like diamonds and be bold,
howl, howl against the wounding of the torch.
And you, my muse, there on the broken boat,
chide, touch, me now with your harsh love, I pray.
Do not jump softly into that good mist,
howl, howl against the wounding of the torch.

Crunch!