Long ago and far away
In the inner plains of time
A fair voice was heard to say
We will meet to love someday.
Through centuries of waking dream
Varied tongues have shared the rhyme
Each meeting, new though it may seem,
Another pattern in the scheme.
Running now through you and me
A thread, a wisp of fleeting song —
An ever-mending tapestry —
This treasured bit of life we see.