Words, such as dreamers utter;
Songs, played on dulcet strings;
Pictures, that hold beauty deathless-- Here, on the verge,
They fade away to dull colors,
Echoes of words. Let the sunsets paint it,
And the rainbows.
Let the pueblos whisper of it--
Voices of long ago.
Let the river sing of it--
A wild thing, caged, escaping.