As I tread on a trodden road,      
I heard a fair and airy tune.          
It sang the soul of young and old,      
and glowed the soft light of the moon,
and exposed mercenary men,
and reposed man’s trial and drudgery,
edifying without disdain,
and sharing in its luxury.

All day, I searched the forest floor,
but the songbird had flown away.
The timeless joy I thought I’d found
had only lasted for a day.
For many years I, as Faust before,
searched through folk and philosophy,
through books, bars, and the billion stars,  
but nothing was revealed to me.

My life went on, my soul succumbed
to life’s hardship and hellish strain,
till one day,  now old and alone,
I heard the tune amidst pouring rain.
Antithesis to Narcissus,
despite a life of pondering,
I could see the song was my own,
and wept from foolish wandering.