While The Billy BoilsSearchBetween the living and the dead,Our waking and our sleep between,A ribbon, dark with hues of dread,That links the hidden with the seen,The Road winds on through Might Have Been,By gladsome glades of Gone Before,Through dream and doom, by shade and sheen,For evermore — for evermore!
And, leaden heart or drooping head,By rolling dune, by runnelled dene,Still onward sweep the legions, ledBy Judas or by Nazarene;And Folly blears, with blots unclean,The rainbow raiment Beauty wore,And Fancy mourns her exiled queenFor evermore — for evermore!
The spilt wine flashes rosy red;But pale, pale are their lips, I ween,Who break with Dearth her bitter bread,And drink with Loss her vintage lean;Their sighs are sadder than the keenOf night winds on a reedy shore,Where widowed Griefs grey children gleanFor evermore — for evermore!
Sahara stark, savanna green,Though life be cankered to the core,The Road winds on through Fate’s demesneFor evermore — for evermore!