© 2005 Ree Tjeerdsma

And once again, 'tis all for naught
That I have worked and I have sought
My effort done, no prize I've won,
For with my work I've been besot.

Though none may look upon my task
And few would even think to ask,
I find my deed is what I need —
Though soft and fragile as the pasque.

So now shall I with angry eye
Descend to Earth and give my cry?
Oh nay, my friend; this is no end!
I'll start again, if saints forfend.

This is the end. If you haven't followed a link yet, perhaps you should take it from the top.