They dance, in like accompaniment, farther then the sun;
and pass; beyond the reach of whence, and where and what and when
They sing of riches, gold and fame, of praises without count;
yet leave; theses shreds of silver song, these scraps like old men gaunt
What beauty they might once have held is lost, and gone with time;
their bright-lit songs and righted wrongs, have long since passed their prime
And ne're return, the dance they spun, for past the shores of age;
the ideals they were, the stories long gone, locked into a cage
To tell their tales in cheerful joy, to shine, to sing, to gleam;
removed from sight; without a fight-
-now nothing but a dream.