Silver-tongued words from a beautiful mind
And a beautiful shape ‘round which dreams are to wind
Oh, we, dear, will spin him a beautiful world
But only are his memory girls.

Verse he almost recognizes
Familiar gaze, forgotten guises
You, the smile, the helping hand
I the lovelorn poet am.

My syllables sung on a prettier lip
Lines that cannot be yours at a dancer’s pen tip
To him, I am lost, and you not quite found
For to his memory we’re bound.

Rhyme he cannot yet quite place
Agéd veils, forever’s face
You, the friend, his childhood rose
I yesterday’s pain propose.

Sweet nature, sweet brow, but a poisonous poem
He’s catching at mist, till it dawns that we know him
A whispering duo of tales from his past, we
Inhabit now his memory.

Stanzas in his Lethe are drowned
Past day’s jewels, lip’s sense near found
You, the heart that is desired
I unhappily beguiled.

Silver-tipped tears from a shadowy eye
And a shadowy fear of union’s ties
Oh, we, dear will spin him a shadowy world
But only are his memory girls.