John Taylor "The Water Poet"

As shines the moon in clouded skies,
She in her poor attire was seen.

As shines the moon in clouded skies,
She in her poor attire was seen.

Fill the cup and fill the can,
Have a rouse before the morn;
Every minute dies a read more

Fill the cup and fill the can,
Have a rouse before the morn;
Every minute dies a man,
Every minute one is born.

Like summer tempest came her tears:
Sweet my child, I live for thee.

Like summer tempest came her tears:
Sweet my child, I live for thee.

But that old man, who is lord of the broad estate and the hall,
Dropped off gorged from a read more

But that old man, who is lord of the broad estate and the hall,
Dropped off gorged from a scheme which left us flaccid and
drained.

For man is man, and master of his fate.

For man is man, and master of his fate.