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The music I heard once |
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Was louder |
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Than it is now |
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I can no longer distinguish |
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Pained cries |
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From shouts of joy |
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Perhaps my ears are deaf |
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Or the interference too great |
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Still the order I remember |
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Has given way to discord |
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And while running wild was exciting |
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It was so |
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Only for a moment |
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Fleeting as a note |
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Leaving an even more transparent impression |
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The music I recall |
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Was different than it is now |
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For the new makes the old seem |
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Older than it is |
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To think from that |
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We grew into a new age |
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Suggests that |
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Ages past |
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Were not enough for adventuring souls |
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For stars too bright to be concealed |
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In a dark |
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But beauteous night |
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We will paste upon the curled pages |
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Words |
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Like charming |
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And romantic |
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And sentimental |
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Forgetting that charming is witchcraft |
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Romantic is love |
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And sentiment is what makes us |
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Human |
