The dog stream throws itself with joyous momentum
gayly shake thick hair, a Briard fantastical
water flies from the hairs in their whirling motion
all around the wheel lies thick and mechanical
our days will be ground by the watermill of time
which turns a god of all most enigmatical
indifferent is flour where the sweat and the blood
have even sapped the spirits, those most physical
but what leaven will make of this ash ethical
the bread which nourishes all hope of the dying?
