He Will Go His Way

Birds sing
Yet spring
Is far away.
The day
Is cold.
I think of arms that enfold
And do not hold.
The gold
Coin doth spin
And what some call sin
Enters in.
I think of a girl’s scent
Of those who do, and then repent.
I dwell on heaven
O how close ‘tis to hell!
And think it well
To leave the stone
Alone.
Why this desire
To know the secret fire
That in man does burn
And how he doth turn
Away
From the light of day.
He will go his way
Whate’r the moralists say.