TO THE READERS
Naught but the blade of a grass at times is the
veil of mine eye,
Yea, and at times the two worlds in a glance are mine to descry.
Far though the valley of Love be, a long and a terrible way,
The path of a hundred years may be travelled at times in a sigh.
Labour then in the Quest, nor yield Hopes grip from thy hand:
A fortune at times to win by the side of the road doth he!