We're still remainded Sometimes by a rain But can't no longer say What it means Hold my hand Oh hold it fast The lips may beguile With a dimple or smile You are so great And I so small Oh I need neither rise nor fall A flitting grace A phantom face But the world is out There is no place. I didn't know death was so strange And the great round world grows weak and old The pale candle flame lights up our sins In sunlight to the sun, shall set in night The sweet and golden dreams all vanished there In every clime and every sun The story is never told White as a birch in the snow of a winter moon