This Wild Swan Of A World Is

Oh Heavy Change. The World Deteriorates Like A Rotting Apple, Worms And A Skin.

If You Should Look For This Place After A Handful Of Lifetimes: Perhaps Of My Planted Forest A Few May Stand Yet, Dark-leaved Australians Or The Coast Cypress, Haggard With Storm-drift; But Fire And The Axe Are Devils. Look For Foundations Of Sea-worn Granite, My Fingers Had The Art To Make Stone Love Stone, You Will Find Some Remnant.

This Wild Swan Of A World Is No Hunter's Game.

I've Changed My Ways A Little, I Cannot Now Run With You In The Evenings Along The Shore, Except In A Kind Of Dream, And You, If You Dream A Moment, You See Me There.

It Is Only A Little Planet, But How Beautiful It Is.