From Outside a New Light

[timothylocke]

The song draweth nigh,
for the singer doth deceive
A pedestal or a throne
for a basket without weave
To each seller is himself
Each himself to be sold
two penny for your strife,
all silver for half gold
Along and long tithe
since the river gave gain
A dark shift that drives on
a soft shadow through the rain
From ashes to ashes
For we all must fall down
A slim glance at king's eye
A fist curled for king's crown