With other song than this. And yet, who knows,
May be your pride is of more worth to you
Than all the melodies of Paradise,
And these sad songs of yours more beautiful
Than any you could sing with happier lips.
Perhaps our Lord’s sweet face might make you dumb.
May be your pride is of more worth to you
Than all the melodies of Paradise,
And these sad songs of yours more beautiful
Than any you could sing with happier lips.
Perhaps our Lord’s sweet face might make you dumb.
Alastair (outside singing).
Summer is gone at last, and autumn leaves are falling,
And through the naked trees the wind is breathing low.
Let us arise and go, for the old gods are calling,
The beautiful cruel gods we loved so long ago.
Summer is gone at last, and autumn leaves are falling,
And through the naked trees the wind is breathing low.
Let us arise and go, for the old gods are calling,
The beautiful cruel gods we loved so long ago.
Let us arise and go, for far beyond the city
We hear the old gods singing the years from which we came,
The merry heartless years that knew not pain or pity,
The happy lustful years that knew not fear or shame.
We hear the old gods singing the years from which we came,
The merry heartless years that knew not pain or pity,
The happy lustful years that knew not fear or shame.
The bitter music calls, and we must follow after
Back through the gentler years to the old time again,
To wake their lovely mirth, to move the gods to laughter,
This is the end of man, the full reward of pain.
Back through the gentler years to the old time again,
To wake their lovely mirth, to move the gods to laughter,
This is the end of man, the full reward of pain.
The golden eyes aglow, the silver laughter ringing,
Shall we not suffer pain for lovely things as these?
Shall we not suffer pain for lovely things as these?
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