The cock crows
But no queen rises.
The hair of my blonde
Is dazzling,
As the spittle of cows
threading the wind.
Ho! Ho!
But ki-ki-ri-ki
Brings no rou-cou,
No rou-cou-cou.
But no queen comes
In slipper green.
by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
There are not many sins when once we sift them.
In actions of evolving human souls
Striving to reach high goals
And falling backward into dust and mire,
Some element we find that seems to lift them