The Time Has Come

‘The time has come,’ my best friend said,
‘To talk of pretty things.
Of hot air balloons and ballet dancers,
And when Maria Callas sings.
Stage productions, well writ Lit,
The hills of Old Scotland,
Your hair today, theses peonies,
A couple hand in hand.’
There’s nothing left here on this point
To makes us want to stay,
So ‘let us to the world depart
And find those things, we may.’

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