A ballad.it reads:
He by will will rule the world;
He will see his desire fulfilled;
His kingdom it shall be unfurled
It will be as he had willed;
But the seamless, forms a seam
Like a slow and steady leak
And he has another dream
Of seven days of the week.
No lesson there for him
But what could it mean?
This department's lights are dim
A failing left unseen?
They will perish, it is ordained
From on high as there be
Survival's rules shall be retained
Fortune is as nothing to he.
But from whence comes now this
The deep of over-work'd man's brain?
For all his hits, this single miss
His unconscious must be to blame.
And before him now stand six
Six men he has never known
Their faces impassive, a gentle mix
of grave and mild and windward blown.
And now he recalls all the fools
Over whom his triumph rose
They failed to serve as his tools
For this he served them many woes;
And this time in his hand
Are five seeds of greatest worth
Just these and lifeless land
The seeds of all the earth!
Now he seeks wholly to find
To find from whence these chimeras come
He seeks doctors of the mind
And medicines, far more than some
But he dreams still all the more
No help from science's kens
He stands upon the furthest shore
And speaks with the four winds!
Madness grips him, for his loss
Of power over his own self
To sleep and dream, not turn and toss
Despite all earth's own wealth!
And now he walks a desolate place
On whom no river ever runs
As morning comes to greet its face
It rises with three suns!
The dire dread of deathlike sleep
Is sorrow to the soul
But even worse to fail to keep
One's own vessel whole.
As the leak now torrent bleak
And cracked, his sordid brain.
He fails to dream for at least a week
Until the coming rain.
It falls in mists and gathers there
In pools upon the ground
And in each the turbulent air
Is by torrents whipped around.
A woman and child now visit him
Which does not cause alarm
How they got so deep within?
- they had no will to harm.
So they speak not but look intent
And remain yet blissful dry
In a blink, they leave just as sent
His but a single cry.
His wealth, the wealth of all the earth
His fortress built all-true
His foreknowledge now of no worth
His charities askew?
But no matter the dreams had stopped
And much was left to do
With no dreams like rocks outcropped
His path was blazed anew!
But at last when he'd forgotten them
The final one returned
Each dream a flag, and emblem
Of what he'd never learned
Of what intelligence is all-blind
Of what wealth cannot hold
Of what foreknowledge cannot bind
Of things ever-old.
In his last dream he found his state
To be hale and well
But alone he was, so very great
He dreamt a dream of hell.