Walk by me for a while,
Link-armed the ways they travel
For many a pleasant mile —
Link-armed and dumb they travel,
They sing not, but they smile.
Hope leaving, Love commences
To practise on the lute;
And as he sings and travels
With lingering, laggard foot,
Despair plays obligato
The sentimental flute.
Until in singing garments
Comes royally, at call —
Comes limber-hipped Indiff’rence
Free stepping, straight and tall —
Comes singing and lamenting,
The sweetest pipe of all.
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