Song's End

THE CHIME of a bell of gold  
 That flutters across the air,  
The sound of a singing of old,  
The end of a tale that is told,  
 Of a melody strange and fair,  
 of a joy that has grown despair:  
 
For the things that have been for me  
 I shall never have them again;  
The skies and the purple sea,  
And day like a melody,
 And night like a silver rain  
 Of stars on forest and plain.  
 
They are shut, the gates of the day;  
 The night has fallen on me:  
My life is a lightless way;
I sing yet, while as I may!  
 Some day I shall cease, maybe:  
 I shall live on yet, you will see.