a secret song

i sit as on a throne and I sing a secret song:

what thou lov'st well remains,

the rest is dross

what thou lov'st well is thy true heritage

whose world, or mie or theirs

or is it of none?

first came the seen, then thus the palpable

elysium, though it were in the hall fo hell

what thou lov'st well is thy true heritage