One Dreams, One Dreamt
One dreams, one dreamt, together in the rain,
Beneath an awning, river in the lane,
In boredom, and bold confidence of youth,
The lad set forth to dwell upon the truth.
“It’s all a pointless fury, is it not?
Our little lives, in vast confusion caught.
And like the dirt that’s flowing by our feet,
There’s nothing left, when all the sum’s complete.”
The old man looked upon him, speaking slow,
And he said, “Son, that ain’t the way to go.”
The thunder spoke in quiet ‘tween the two,
But as it died, the young man spoke anew.
“I don’t say all’s the same, no Stoic I,
I want my pile of gold before I die.
Though life's a wretched mess, no wretch I'll be,
What good there is, I'll bring it home to me.”
The old man looked upon him, speaking slow,
And he said, “Son, that ain’t the way to go.”
The anger of the storm soon passed away,
And little patience had the lad to stay.
But as he turned to leave, as in a trance,
The old man said, beneath his thoughtful glance,
“When the music plays, don’t forget to dance.”
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