Poetry is not a poison tree;
Beneath it we can be free;
We play forgetting all the sorrow
And plan to live in peace tomorrow.

Blossoms fragrant all we smell
And the dry leaves all dispel;
Unforbidden fruits we reap
To enjoy them and safely keep.

Seeds of all the mellowed fruits
Bury in earth and grow roots;
The nurselings all we distribute
To green the globe, as a tribute