uncertain pilgrimage

each writes the tale  upon a golden leaf

no safer record for so short a time

age after age the truth beggars belief

we think that honest labour is a crime

when all our hopes are cast into the slime

your choice is simple just cast out the blame

the monster's wild that you thought mild and tame

no hope is placed in partner or in friend

who knows the rules of this most profane game

we seek the melted snow of last weekend

the winner turns out just one more old thief

who casts his words in good old-fashioned rhyme

and promises that he'll be firmly brief

but does not move you into the sublime

before the clock has uttered its first chime

such matters will not lead you out of shame

but are the sort of thing that fools might claim

to make you bow or lead you now to bend

hoping to turn you from your steady aim

we seek the melted snow of last weekend

pain of great loss produces no more grief

than could be borne in such a foreign clime

as this there is no wisdom seeks relief

or hopes to gain a dollar or a dime

we've reached the bottom and we must now climb

past all the horrors that we cannot name

knowing that no good thought will stay the same

and that our duty no one would commend

still though our feet are tired and very lame

we seek the melted snow of last weekend

prince you have mastery of wind and flame

your state is great in glory and acclaim

but to this act you may not condescend

beyond the limits of the human frame

we seek the melted snow of last weekend