I heard a song once long ago,
From some golden age--
It set my soul to simmer softly
Like an incensed leaf of sage.

Its melody was dark and sweet
With notes of olden sorrow;
The piano cried a hollow song
And took my woes to borrow.

Songs like this—
They’re more about what we feel
Than what the mind can glean.

In the end,
It’s loneliness that makes us find
Company—
Not our reveries.