the sky was gray and I tried the day but missed the will or wish.
My mind parted and I heard, as through a vestment kissed
a voice that took what I thought to say, the thanks turned back to me
so what I said might fall and break,
as choirs sang of things, soft and low
singing with a sweet ol sway, without a sound.
I haven't tried, in prayer, to find what is given me,
I haven't tried to know how close I've come You see.
Guided by the fortune of one who gets what's coming
I'm just lazy I guess, cunning.