I Really Don't Know Enough

Music I Heard With You Was More Than Music, And Bread I Broke With You Was More Than Bread. Now That I Am Without You, All Is Desolate, All That Was Once So Beautiful Is Dead. Your Hands Once Touched This Table And This Silver,and I Have Seen Your Fingers Hold This Glass. These Things Do Not Remember You, Beloved: And Yet Your Touch Upon Them Will Not Pass. For It Was In My Heart You Moved Among Them,and Blessed Them With Your Hands And With Your Eyes.and In My Heart They Will Remember Always: They Knew You Once, O Beautiful And Wise!

All That Is Beautiful, And All That Looks On Beauty With Eyes Filled With Fire, Like A Lover's Eyes: All Of This Is Yours; You Gave It To Me, Sunlight! All These Stars Are Yours; You Gave Them To Me, Skies!

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.

The Wandering One, The Inquisitive Dreamer Of Dreams, The Eternal Asker Of Answers, Stands In The Street, And Lifts His Palms For The First Cold Ghost Of Rain.

The Days, The Nights, Flow One By One Above Us. The Hours Go Silently Over Our Lifted Faces. We Are Like Dreamers Who Walk Beneath A Sea. Beneath High Walls We Flow In The Sun Together. We Sleep, We Wake, We Laugh, We Pursue, We Flee.