Can I ever know you / Or you know me?
My soul is a broken field, plowed by pain.
It is my heart that makes my songs, not I.
There's nothing half so real in life as the things you've done... inexorably, unalterably done.
Though I know he loves me, tonight my heart is sad; his kiss was not so wonderful as all the dreams I had.
All through the deep blue night The fountain sang alone; It sang to the drowsy heart of the satyr carved in stone. The fountain sang and sang But the satyr never stirred- Only the great white moon In the empty heaven heard.