We're still remainded
Sometimes by a rain
But can't no longer say
What it means
Hold my hand
Oh hold it fast
The lips may beguile
With a dimple or smile
You are so great
And I so small
Oh I need neither rise nor fall
A flitting grace
A phantom face
But the world is out
There is no place.
I didn't know death was so strange
And the great round world grows weak and old
The pale candle flame lights up our sins
In sunlight to the sun, shall set in night
The sweet and golden dreams all vanished there
In every clime and every sun
The story is never told
White as a birch in the snow of a winter moon

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