Oh, Man Of Words So Strange To Me

Oh, man of words so strange to me,

How foreign you’ve become,

And times of passing created

A love never undone;

Accent of the north,

Or maybe in north-west,

Telling stories, anecdotes;

Writing cheekily at best.

How can you pass before my eyes

So serene, yet at war with me?

Striving escape, dying at heart,

Hiding from what we see.

Oh, gorgeous one, weave from the silk

A line of melodies

Tell me the scene that you have lived,

Like paint upon the frieze.

Take up the brush, or lay the hands,

Oh, on instrumentus gay,

Forget your mind and free us two,

Let the music tell what you say;

Classical, my Greek man-god,

Yet afraid to play the hand;

Dancers of the same one-two,

Oh, I, by sound, understand

That yours is not a place to be,

A line to stay behind,

So forget yourself, and forget me,

But keep the tune in mind:

Lah dee dah, and something more,

My mind no longer lives

Dancing out in faint sun, She

To yourself gives.

The End

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