The Piper at the Gates of Dawn
A music weaves through waving reed and rush,
a bit of symphony that melds with swish and shush
of wind and water through the leaping stream,
with one small thread of song in dawning gleam.
Both old and new, with beauty bright and clear,
like foreign-land's adventures laced with homelands dear,
like dreams of things that never we have known
that give to waking life a strange but luscious tone,
behind the veil of life, like Pan in piping dance,
is realm of magic haunt and holy-high romance;
just on the other side of mundane shadows gray
the Piper pipes the song at gates of dawning day.
The Touch of Evermore
The world is dark and full of sorrow,
the roads are long and sharp with stone,
but with you here, the stars are shining
and I will never walk alone.
My dearest love, my night is falling
as was my fate since I was born,
but in your smile the sun is dawning
and hope can dream a fairer morn.
The shadows fall on every corner
and in the dark the monsters dwell,
but, bright of eye, you walk here smiling
and banish all the shades of hell.
My dearest love, I stand here dying,
as we all do on this wicked shore,
but you and I, our hearts are flying
and I feel the touch of evermore.
