I sing of sorrow, I sing of weeping. I have no sorrow.
I only borrow From some tomorrow Where it lies sleeping, Enough of sorrow To sing of weeping.
Heartbreak that is too new Can not be used to make Beauty that will startle; That takes an old heartbreak.
Old heartbreaks are old wine. Too new to pour is mine.
Your kiss lies on my face Like the first snow Upon a summer place.
Bewildered by that wonder, The grasses tremble under The thing they do not know. I tremble even so.
Over and over I tell the sky: I am free — I!
Over and over I tell the sea: — I am free!
Over and over I tell my lover I am free, free! Over and over.
But when the night comes black and cold, I who am young, with fear grow old; And I know, when the world is clear of sound, I am bound — bound.