Morning dew on sweet rose petals,
Awake thy mouth to-a hearty song
Though my lips are coarse as nettles,
They are wise and not headstrong.
Fresh and scented is thy gaze,
In the light of rising suns
Though my eyes are dry with haze,
They avert from charming sons.
I hope we meet in time of trial,
The outside oft reflects the deep
Where the soul soars from defile,
The body’s climb is very steep.