when the storms break change comes upon the land
new rivers rise each clearing a fresh course
having pushed up from a surprising source
that is a matter we can understand
in books and pictures we might think it grand
a fact of nature each fool would endorse
as being nothing more than goodly force
and proof that death is but a gentle hand
we let things happen and they do not slip
past our control into some roaring drain
as blank-faced masses wait to see things pass
value remains beyond each rise or dip
that has been measured or been written plain
and we see clearly through transparent glass