Four Canonic Choruses

Listen a while, the moon is a lovely woman, a lonely woman, lost in a
silver dress, lost in a circus rider's silver dress.

Listen a while, the lake by night is a lonely woman, a lovely woman,
circled with birches and pines mixing their green and white among stars
shattered in spray clear nights.	
  
I know the moon and the lake have twisted the roots under my heart the
same as a lonely woman, a lovely woman, in a silver dress, in a circus
rider's silver dress.

Come not, when I am dead,
To drop thy foolish tears upon my grave,
To trample [round]1 my fallen head,
And vex the unhappy dust thou wouldst not save.
There let the wind sweep and the plover cry;
But thou, go by.

Child, if it were thine error or thy crime
I care no longer, being all unblest:
Wed whom thou wilt, but I am sick of Time,
And I desire to rest.
Pass on, weak heart, and leave me where I lie:
Go by, go by.