Peace on a bough never withers

As is, has been, has will be seen
All that is night is day
File at the prison-bars, light the gasoline!
Death is indifferent, anyway.

Pies need a crust; a dog its lust.
All that is day is night
As if food for the stars to combust:
Life is the gift still erudite.

Juxtapose the sun, the shimmering rose
All that is theirs is ours...
The waxing of an atom newly froze...
Peace on a bough never withers.