I Seem To Myself, As In A

This Cruel Age Has Deflected Me, Like A River From This Course. Strayed From Its Familiar Shores, My Changeling Life Has Flowed Into A Sister Channel. How Many Spectacles I've Missed: The Curtain Rising Without Me, And Falling Too. How Many Friends I Never Had The Chance To Meet.

Real Tenderness Can't Be Confused, It's Quiet And Can't Be Heard.

All Has Been Looted, Betrayed, Sold; Black Death's Wing Flashed Ahead.

Courage: Great Russian Word, Fit For The Songs Of Our Children's Children, Pure On Their Tongues, And Free.

Sweet To Me Was Not The Voice Of Man, But The Wind's Voice Was Understood By Me. The Burdocks And The Nettles Fed My Soul, But I Loved The Silver Willow Best Of All.