Let the harp play

Known not how long I am dead beat,
The billow of the fire drifts in the heart underneath enclosing the bust of the youthful chest.

Let the harp play today
with the beats of the music
in the form of the fire harp.

Let the spunk of this fire root out the inhumane oppressor,
Put thy harp in those minds tuned in humane caresser,
Kindle the light with this fire
Where there is no flare.