All Sung
R
Richard Le Gallienne
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What shall I sing when all is sung,
And every tale is told,
And in the world is nothing young
That was not long since old?
Why should I fret unwilling ears
With old things sung anew,
While voices from the old dead years
Still go on singing too?
A dead man singing of his maid
Makes all my rhymes in vain,
Yet his poor lips must fade and fade,
And mine shall kiss again.
Why should I strive through weary moons
To make my music true?
Only the dead men knew the tunes
The live world dances to.
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