And what shall we sing of love?
Shall we sing its praises from above?
Shall we champion that old cause of pain
One more time? What do we gain?
When that greatest woman walks toward us
We lose breath but so much it afford us
We cry tears in our heart from the aching
From the want - there inside we are breaking
But she picks up our hand from the table
And she presses it there. We are able
To see where she has it at breast
And we slowly lift eyes to the best
Tender curve of her smile
And we've crossed a last line after miles.
So she lays herself down in my lap
And she brushes my beard, then a tap
On my nose to be kissed
And the old pain is no longer missed.
I cannot brain today. I have the dumb.