Poem все тексты (слова) песен, переводы, видео, клипы

Can you crate a burning circle
Your only weapon to dream
is like a storm dressed in purple
Trying to hide away from fear
as long as you were downhearted
Your eagerly
await
Became some kind of abuse

I take it you already know
Of tough and bough and cough and dough?
Others may stumble, but not you
On hiccough, thorough, laugh and through?
Well done! And now you wish perhaps
To learn of less familiar traps?

Beware of heard, a dreadful word

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

It is the hour when from the boughs
The nightingale’s high note is heard;
It is the hour when lovers vows
Seem sweet in every whispered word.
And gentle winds and waters near,
Make music to the lovely ear.
Each flower the dews have lightly wet,
And in the sky the stars are met.