When I was young then all my boughs

were thickly hung with glittering hopes.

But one by one they've blown away

and only one remains today.

It flutters out upon the air,

one hope all pinned on gossamer.



What are all lives but gossamer

in one lacy cobweb crossed?

Yet strand by strand we tear at it

until the pattern's lost.

And one by one hopes blow away

till only one remains today.



I hope the forest will return

to climb the mist-hung morning slopes.

Where falling leaves deep-banked in fern

may meet the water ouzel's hopes.

But one by one they've blown away

and only one remains today.



And when the condor opens flight

on crystal air not cracked or stained

by any fallen angel's flight,

these glittering hopes may be regained.



When I was young then all my boughs

were thickly hung with glittering hopes.

But one by one they've blown away

and only one remains today.

It flutters out upon the air,

one hope all pinned on gossamer