| What relief! |
| To be among men used
|
| To deeper wonders than the waves
|
| Men too proud to mend their ways
|
| What relief! |
| To be among men
|
| Who swore never to stumble
|
| Never to tire, never to waste their
|
| Time by preaching to the choir
|
| But to take this longing
|
| Onto the streets
|
| For that is where dissent
|
| And disloyalty shall meet
|
| For that is where beauty
|
| And necessity shall meet
|
| Now, I have many friends
|
| Like you can’t count the wheat
|
| And many are those who shared their
|
| Bread along the river aeeth
|
| And we all shared shelter
|
| Danger and wine too
|
| To join in this
|
| Bloodless birth of hope
|
| For we find neither dignity
|
| Nor comfort in rest like you
|
| And as they threw open
|
| Their orchards
|
| I found you there
|
| Between two rows of tenderness
|
| And two rows of despair
|
| And as they threw open
|
| Their orchards
|
| I found you there
|
| Between two rows of tenderness
|
| And two rows of despair
|
| And now I owe you all
|
| And now I owe you all
|
| Now we are left
|
| Picking up the pieces
|
| Of ideals smothered in pomp
|
| And told to cherish
|
| Whatever lowers and weeps
|
| And blame it on the one
|
| Who rises and leaps
|
| And yet, we shall remain
|
| Among the few
|
| Leaderless men
|
| The only ones to refuse
|
| Th become leaders of men
|
| Who are still strangers
|
| To gloating
|
| Who are still strangers
|
| To loathing
|
| And as they threw open
|
| Their orchards
|
| I found you there
|
| Between two rows of tenderness
|
| And two rows of despair
|
| And as they threw open
|
| Their orchards
|
| I found you there
|
| Between two rows of tenderness
|
| And two rows of despair
|
| And now I owe you all
|
| And now I owe you all |