Death Is One Dream Out Of Another

He Whose First Emotion, On The View Of An Excellent Work, Is To Undervalue Or Depreciate It, Will Never Have One Of His Own To Show.

Variations: Ii Green Light, From The Moon, Pours Over The Dark Blue Trees, Green Light From The Autumn Moon Pours On The Grass ... Green Light Falls On The Goblin Fountain Where Hesitant Lovers Meet And Pass. They Laugh In The Moonlight, Touching Hands, They Move Like Leaves On The Wind ... I Remember An Autumn Night Like This, And Not So Long Ago, When Other Lovers Were Blown Like Leaves, Before The Coming Of Snow.

Time In The Heart And Sequence In The Brain-- Such As Destroyed Rimbaud And Fooled Verlaine. And Let Us Then Take Godhead By The Neck-- And Strangle It, And With It, Rhetoric.

It's Time To Make Love, Douse The Glim; The Fireflies Twinkle And Dim; The Stars Lean Together Like Birds Of A Feather, And The Loin Lies Down With The Limb.

You Know, Without My Telling You, How Sometimes A Word Or Name Eludes You, And You Seek It Through Running Ghosts Of Shadow -- Leaping At It, Lying In Wait For It To Spring Upon It, Spreading Faint Snares For It Of Sense Or Sound: Until, Of A Sudden, As If In A Phantom Forest, You Hear It, See It Flash Among The Branches, And Scarcely Knowing How, Suddenly Have It.