Too late for fruit, too soon for flowers.
So, blind to Someone I must be.
His are the quiet steeps of dreamland, The waters of no-more-pain; His ram's bell rings 'neath an arch of stars, "Rest, rest, and rest again.
We wake and whisper awhile, But, the day gone by, Silence and sleep like fields Of amaranth lie.
Hi! handsome hunting man Fire your little gun. Bang! Now the animal is dead and dumb and done. Nevermore to peep again, creep again, leap again, Eat or sleep or drink again. Oh, what fun!
A face peered. All the grey night In chaos of vacancy shone; Nought but vast Sorrow was there The sweet cheat gone.
As soon as they're out of your sight, you are out of their mind.
Slowly, silently, now the moon Walks the night in her silver shoon.
A lost but happy dream may shed its light upon our waking hours, and the whole day may be infected with the gloom of a dreary or sorrowful one; yet of neither may we be able to recover a trace.
As long as I live I shall always be My Self - and no other, Just me.