For Each Age Is A Dream That

O Precious Is The Pause Between The Winds That Come And Go, / And Sweet The Silence Of The Shores Between The Ebb And Flow.

But On One Man's Soul It Hath Broken, / A Light That Doth Not Depart; / And His Look, Or A Word He Hath Spoken, / Wrought Flame In Another Man's Heart.

We Are The Music-makers, And We Are The Dreamers Of Dreams... Yet We Are The Movers And Shakers Of The World For Ever, It Seems.

A Breath Of Our Inspiration Is The Life Of Each Generation; A Wondrous Thing Of Our Dreaming Unearthly, Impossible Seeming — The Soldier, The King, And The Peasant Are Working Together In One, Till Our Dream Shall Become Their Present, And Their Work In The World Be Done.

We Are The Music-makers, And We Are The Dreamers Of Dreams, Wandering By Lone Sea-breakers, And Sitting By Desolate Streams. World-losers And World-forsakers, Upon Whom The Pale Moon Gleams; Yet We Are The Movers And Shakers, Of The World Forever, It Seems.