Lost
The sea that sparkles is weary and grey
The mountains that rise are peaked with cracks
The grassland once fertile has lost its may
The building of man its purpose it lacks
So true are the flowers on snow they're strewn
So quaint are the streets that ghosts run yonder
So still is the child old lad' voices croon
So late is autumn that old leaves wonder.
Come! said she, I'll show you the magic, the
Glories and glamours of times yet to pass
The blossoms of springs weaved u'on new fur
The cherry of dances, the gold of class.
Men in gold dresses walk u'on these gold streets
I, mere silver, scout those dark silver lanes
The bonds held captive, the monies in sheets
'Spite all advancement they lose us down drains.
Do not grieve, I say. Someday you shall find
A gold husk, a sea shell of vanity
Perhaps t'is then your verdict may rescind
You may stay in dream, with your sanity.
Or you may wake to see phantoms shatter
Bless these gold men who're gone, you weep and cry
Do not grieve, I'm mere' lost, t'is no matter
For I shall live, and in living I die.