Pictures to the Wall

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Pictures to the Wall

Shall I tell you of my old, old dreams

Lost at the earth’s strange turnings,

Some in the sea when the waves foamed high,

Some in a garret candle’s burnings?

Shall I tell you of bitter, forgotten dreams⁠—

You who are still so young, so young?

You with your wide brown singing eyes

And laughter at the tip of your tongue.

Shall I tell you of weary, weary dreams⁠—

You who have lost no dreams at all,

Or shall I keep quiet and let turn

My ugly pictures to the wall?