The wind, in the city
Blows on our pretty
Baubles. And on thee
And me.
And seems to say,
“Baubles and thee
Will pass away.
But I will stay
And laugh
At lad and lass
Who, in the joy of romance
Drink and dance
And Think
They will remain, forever young.

The poet’s tongue
Will into silence go.
While I (the weather)
Will forever
Remain
In wind, and snow,
And rain.