I. br Funny now, the painted scenes of love abound br That stricken tick, persistent, pleasing measure br Done its final dance around, and now its final sound br To hills of shadows passing, glinting skies to eyes azure br br II. br To you, my darling dove, oh tattered queen of yesteryear br There is no harsher justice, as the mountain snows recede br Possessed are we of sweet decrees, those locks of album hair br Cold and unforgiving Mistress, marking moments - do proceed br br III. br Funny how the autumn leaves play floating in the valley stream br When yesterday they reached majestic to the thin and wispy sky br The dawn that was forever yields herself her precious time br As one-by-one our friends resign to overtones of where they lie br br IV. br To the point of conversation, to the strange, conjunctive bind br We find ourselves, then lose ourselves, and labor, circle-wise br This journey, but a moving picture, lost upon us, dumb and blind br Anchored fast to harbor bottoms as the seas begin to rise br br V.