One by one we count our breath
On the narrow road to death;
Like a raging sea we roar
As we walk along the shore.

Though the terror of the sea
Gives to none security,
In the secret of the shell
Self-preserving we may dwell.

Ask them not to price the heart,
Money-changers of the mart;
We can estimate alone
The true merit of our stone.

Tribute none is asked of us
For our fiefdom ruinous;
Beggars sitting by the road,
We are princes of our- blood.

There is one (O wonderful!)
Dwells beside me in my soul;
Who shall say, if it be thee
Or myself, I meet in me?

Draw aside fate’s veil, I pray,
From this Adam shaped of clay;
On thy path precipitate
For our coming we await.