The only thing to do is jump over the moon.
What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why,
I have forgotten, and what arms have lain
Under my head till morning; but the rain
Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh
Upon the glass and listen for reply,
And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain
For unremembered lads that not again
Will turn to me at midnight with a cry.
Thus in the winter stands the lonely tree,
Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one,
Yet knows its boughs more silent than before:
I cannot say what loves have come and gone;
I only know that summer sang in me
A little while, that in me sings no more.
Do not take this entry personally.
It's just lake effect snow.
Sometimes they come and sometimes they go, talking of Michelangelo. I'm talking about big fish.
Are we to divorce the past in favour of the Bohemian future? Or the future for the Bohemian past?
Generally, questions are fine, but today confusion is making life a little foggy. I can't see your faces with my little candle.
I have forgotten, and what arms have lain
Under my head till morning; but the rain
Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh
Upon the glass and listen for reply,
And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain
For unremembered lads that not again
Will turn to me at midnight with a cry.
Thus in the winter stands the lonely tree,
Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one,
Yet knows its boughs more silent than before:
I cannot say what loves have come and gone;
I only know that summer sang in me
A little while, that in me sings no more.
Do not take this entry personally.
It's just lake effect snow.
Sometimes they come and sometimes they go, talking of Michelangelo. I'm talking about big fish.
Are we to divorce the past in favour of the Bohemian future? Or the future for the Bohemian past?
Generally, questions are fine, but today confusion is making life a little foggy. I can't see your faces with my little candle.