Soon my is will turn to was
Going stale in time’s larder
The pains, the joys, even the cross,
All I bore climbing life’s ladder
They become one forgotten cause.
And my was will be another’s is,
An endless spring to wet his thirst
And extend to him a soothing kiss
With knowledge to fill his chest
So his path he’ll never miss.
Yet my story burns ever bright
And though ‘tis now his-story,
It echoes in countless hearts
For ‘tis become a mystery
To haunt their thoughts day and night!