In Me The Tiger Sniffs The Rose.

December Stillness, Teach Me Through Your Trees That Loom Along The West, One With The Land, The Veiled Evangel Of Your Mysteries. While Nightfall, Sad And Spacious, On The Down Deepens, And Dusk Embues Me Where I Stand, With Grave Diminishings Of Green And Brown, Speak, Roofless Nature, Your Instinctive Words; And Let Me Learn Your Secret From The Sky, Following A Flock Of Steadfast-journeying Birds In Lone Remote Migration Beating By. December Stillness, Crossed By Twilight Roads, Teach Me To Travel Far And Bear My Loads.

Oh Yes, I Know The Way To Heaven Was Easy. We Found The Little Kingdom Of Our Passion That All Can Share Who Walk The Road Of Lovers. In Wild And Secret Happiness We Stumbled; And Gods And Demons Clamoured In Our Senses.

Across The Land A Faint Blue Veil Of Mist Seems Hung; The Woods Wear Yet Arrayment Sober Till Frost Shall Make Them Flame; Silent And Whist The Drooping Cherry Orchards Of October Like Mournful Pennons Hang Their Shriveling Leaves Russet And Orange: All Things Now Decay; Long Since Ye Garnered In Your Autumn Sheaves, And Sad The Robins Pipe At Set Of Day.

And When The War Is Done And Youth Stone Dead, I'd Toddle Safely Home And Die--in Bed.

The Song Was Wordless; The Singing Will Never Be Done.