With my singing I can make, a refuge for my spirit's sake; a house of shining words, to be my fragile immortality.

What we have never had, remains; It is the things we have that go.

Spend all you have for loveliness, Buy it and never count the cost; For one white singing hour of peace Count many a year of strife well lost, And for a breath of ecstasy Give all you have been, or could be.

Though I know he loves me, tonight my heart is sad; his kiss was not so wonderful as all the dreams I had.

Oh to be free of myself, With nothing left to remember, To have my heart as bare As a tree in December; Resting, as a tree rests After its leaves are gone, Waiting no more for a rain at night Nor for the red at dawn.

I am not yours, nor lost in you, not lost, although I long to be. Lost as a candle lit at noon, lost as a snowflake in the sea. You love me, and I find you still a spirit beautiful and bright, yet I am I, who long to be lost as a light is lost in light.

With my singing I can make, a refuge for my spirit's sake; a house of shining words, to be my fragile immortality.