MEANTIME

Far away, far away.

        Far away from here...

There's no running after joy

        Or away from fear,

        Far away from here.

Her lips were not very red

        Nor her hair quite gold.

Her hands played with rings.

        She did not let me hold.

        Her hands playing with gold.

She is somewhere past,

        Far away from pain.

Joy can touch her not, nor hope

        Enter her domain,

        Neither love in vain.

Perhaps at some day beyond

        Shadows and light,

She will think of me and make

        All me a delight,

        Far away from sight.