Was there a time when dancers with their fiddles 
In children's circuses coul stay their troubles? 
There was a time they could cry over books, 
But time has set its maggot on their track. 
Under the arc of the sky they are unsafe. 
What's never known is safest in this life. 
Under the skysigns they who have no arms 
Have cleanest hands, and, as the heartless ghost 
Alone's unhurt, so the blind man sees best.