“It is early"

               Of course, it is early.

               You will hear other voices

               sing other songs.

               You will choose one.

               You will come to know

               the depth of the shadows

               in the grasses.

               You will see friends

               grow and wither,

               and dreams and sorrows

               slip away.

               Will you forget these songs?

               Will they vanish in the beauty

               with which they cannot compete,

               the white mountain, the red rose,

               the resolute eyes of a lover?

               Or will they remain,

               and remind you of the glow

               your eyes had once,

               and the magic they inspired

               in the heart of another?