At first, when the wind blows and sunset–
Dims and when the cock crows aloud,
   Your conscience leaps and with your brows-arose,
With your sour-lips and a curved hips
     Either your breath stinks or not,
But when the cotton open and all
    Your flesh and your blurry eyes striving
For sight when the light is at rise,
    All the parish of rails of the day
May forsake delay whilst the clay
   Designs a fortunate rail or relay,
Billions are those who seeks and
   Hundreds are those who gives but
Lucky are those who gets.

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