The time of flames has come to make us burn --
The poet speaks, we understand. We turn
Our words to ends, we must philosophize
We know their meanings when they're means -- we're wise
Until we seek to know beyond the time
The wood is used, reduced to beat or rhyme
From which arise the means to mean, a song
Upon the score to satisfy the throng.
And thus we speak the truth and safely shock --
We reap rewards and rarely taste hemlock.
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