Tut, the Sklent Age!
where fire of faith?
the cursed, do ache!
no need more hate.
No sip of remnant,
my bread like sweat,
as ill luck eminent,
has salty bet.
Go cap in hand to it,
bend down an’ down,
into the deep a slip…
attain renown?
No dark! be bright! –
break in forever,
by chance ignite,
extinguish never!
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